


Impasto

by jiggityjams



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Art, Canon-Typical Violence, Crime Scenes, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal is Hannibal, Hannibal your creep is showing, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jack Crawford Being an Asshole, M/M, Manipulative Hannibal Lecter, Minor Character Death, Murder, Obsessive Hannibal Lecter, Painting Restorer!Will Graham, Referenced suicide, Rude Will Graham, Slow Burn, Technical Art Restoration Talk, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, eventual dark!Will, hannibal is a terrible therapist, referenced character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 08:02:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 50,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21713287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jiggityjams/pseuds/jiggityjams
Summary: “You’re not going to try to discourage me, Will?”Another glance, a pursing of lips. “... No. I can see the determination in your face. You know what you want and you have the means to obtain it. Most clients think they know what they want- until they hear how long it will take and how much that work will cost. We’ll work out some numbers, of course, and draft a contract. If you’re willing to be patient with the piece then I’m willing to give it my best go.”A small, pleased smile spread across the psychiatrist’s face. “I think this is the start of a beautiful partnership, Will. I look forward to working with you.”——-Or the one where Hannibal has found a lost treasure and Will has given up on police work and has turned his talents to restoring oil paintings.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 471
Kudos: 1228
Collections: Best things I've ever read, Things I always come back to





	1. Stellar Sonata

**Author's Note:**

> Impasto: the process or technique of laying on paint or pigment thickly so that it stands out from a surface.
> 
> This work is inspired by all the painting restoration videos I’ve been watching on YouTube. I’m basing a lot of what Will does off of YouTuber Baumgartner Fine Art Restoration, so if you need help with a mental image checkout his more recent videos (they’re sooooo relaxing). 
> 
> The painting Hannibal brings in is real and is created by a Lithuanian painter and music composer. I’ve adjusted the time line a bit for things to make sense and the painting’s history will also be adjusted accordingly.
> 
> This is the first fanfiction I’ve written in.... 7 years? It feels nice writing again. I will be adjusting tags as they are needed. I hope you enjoy! <3 Not beta’ed so if you notice anything please let me know! Thank you for your eyeballs!

A soft ding announced Hannibal’s entrance into the front office space, a relatively small painting wrapped in a protective canvas bag tucked under an arm. The front room of the studio was minimalistic, Hannibal noted, a few faux leather black chairs lined the wall and a large receptionist desk sat in the middle of the room. On the back wall _ Graham’s Restorations _was printed elegantly in black script. There were doors leading to other rooms on the left and right walls. To his right he could hear the muffled sound of voices over a speaker. 

The young woman wearing a scarf who was sitting behind the desk looked up and smiled warmly, shuffling some books and papers out of her way, a college student at her part time job most likely. “Hello, welcome to _ Graham’s Restorations _, I’m Abigail, how may I help you today?” 

“Good afternoon Ms. Abigail, I do believe I spoke with you on the phone,” his smile just the right side of warm, his hand reaching out for a handshake, ever the image of polite control, “I have an appointment with Mr.Graham at two to discuss a recent addition to my collection.”

“Of course, Dr. Hannibal Lecter, yes? Please take a seat and I’ll let Will know you’re here. Help yourself to a cup of coffee.” She gestured to the kitchen cart that sat next to the couches as she hopped up and went to the door on the right. 

When the door closed behind her Hannibal took a curious glance at the textbooks littering the top of the desk. They all appeared to be on the subject of forensic science. He wondered if she was perhaps a student at Quantico, since the main campus was not too far from the studio. 

Amused at the thought, the psychiatrist ventured back to the chairs and took a seat, carefully balancing his treasure on his lap as he glanced at the Keurig machine and the accompanying cups with distaste. He smiled back up at Abigail when she returned, laughing as she shut the door. Hannibal could briefly pick up a few phrases from a talk show playing over the speakers in the studio while the door was open, the word “murder” standing out. 

“He’ll just be another minute, Dr. Lecter. He was in the middle of remounting a canvas.” 

“I understand. I would hate to interrupt his concentration while he is hard at work.” He inclined his head, a small smile on his lips. “If I might be so bold, Ms. Abigail, I could not help but notice your textbooks on the desk. Are you working towards a career in police work?”

“Ah, you got me.” The dark haired girl laughed easily. “I’m attending classes at the FBI Academy and Will is such an amazing boss, he lets me work on school stuff as long as my work is done.” 

“As education is one of the best routes one can take towards bettering themselves and police work is an admirable field to join, I’m glad Mr.Graham is so understanding.”

The studio door opened once more and a scruffy man wearing a rather worn looking plaid button up and paint stained slacks joined them in the small front room, walking towards the computer on the desk. Hannibal briefly heard the name Chesapeake Ripper before the studio door shut again. Apparently Ms. Hobbs was not the only one interested in true crime. 

“Mr. Graham, I presume?” He asked pleasantly, rising from his seated position. 

The man glanced at him as he finished typing something. “Just Will is fine.” He grunted, avoiding looking Hannibal in the eye. 

_ How rude. _

The man was decidedly much less pleasant to speak with than Abigail, though Ms. Komeda had warned him beforehand that while the restorer wasn’t very sociable, she’d promised that his skills were unmatched when he had mentioned he was looking for a reputable restoration service. If he was as good as Komeda promised than perhaps he could let the rudeness slide- for once. Restoring beauty to the world could certainly tip the scales in favor for the man’s continued existence. 

“Dr. Hannibal Lecter, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He kept his tone warm, keeping his dark thoughts behind his mask.

The man glanced up then but his eyes only reached his cheek. “The viewing room is to the left, follow me.” 

He headed towards the aforementioned door and held it open for Hannibal, who followed him at a reasonable distance, treasure in hand, into a smaller room that had wall to wall shelving filled with canvases. Will walked to an easel on the one open wall, painted stark white, and went to set up the stand. 

“If you’d please unwrap the canvas and set it here we can begin.” 

“Not a fan of eye contact, Will?” Hannibal couldn’t help but poke the rude man as he unzipped the bag, gently unwrapping the painting from its protective layers before setting it onto the easel, finally displaying the piece in all its muted glory. 

“Not really, no.” The man flicked a glare in his direction, jaw tensing slightly, before he looked to the painting, determined to change the subject back to the task at hand. “What do we have here?” 

“_ Stellar Sonata _by Mikalojus Čiurlionis. I do believe it is dated back to 1908.” The psychiatrist smiled minutely, expression warming as he took in the piece. 

“That’s certainly a name.” Will grumbled stepping closer to asses the damage. “1908?” He hummed, taking a few steps back. “There’s a lot of grime on it. Maybe soot. Any idea what it’s history is?” 

“It is from my home country of Lithuania, where I believe it survived both wars. From what I understand it was taken sometime after, during a period of civil unrest. I recently found it at a charity auction, of all places.” 

Will was quiet for a time, focused on his work and Hannibal allowed him the peace, assessing the damage himself for the hundredth time. Beneath the dirt and discolored varnish, the piece was an abstract thing filled with muted golds, sloping waves and a center triangle that lifted up to the top of the painting where it connected with what looked to be an angel. The canvas was mounted onto a comparably new frame, a muted dark wood provided by the auction house. The small painting certainly looked like it had survived a war or two, tarnished through years of rough handling and mistreatment. 

Finally, Will hummed again. “The top layer is going to have to be cleaned off and there’s a good amount of missing paint that might need retouching, the wood stretcher will need to be looked at as well, but that frame seems pretty new, I’m guessing the auction house added it…” He faced Hannibal, eyes trained just above his brow. “What do you want out of this? What’s your end goal?” 

Hannibal pretended to consider his words for a moment before speaking. “I want it to look like it was painted yesterday, restored to its former glory. Will you be able to accomplish that?” 

Will let out a huff. “Yeah, that’s doable, but it’ll take longer and bring the cost up.” Will met his eyes then, frowning. Hannibal smiled and met the gaze head on but had the distinct feeling he was being tested. The man apparently found what he was looking for, sighing as he reached for a pad and pen. “People usually want different things. Some people want a painting to show its age and its story…” He scribbled some things down. “But a complete retouching will take time. Especially with the level of damage present. I normally discourage my clients from a complete restoration...” He set the pad down and went to the painting, turned it around and checked the wooden stretcher, giving it a once over. “...This looks to be the original wood so we can treat it, clean it up and reuse it, if you want. It’s not in too bad a shape…” He turned the piece back around and raised an eyebrow at Hannibal. 

“If it’s all the same to you, I’m very fond of the piece. I’d like it back in pristine condition, original wood and everything. Money is no object and I understand perfection takes time.” Hannibal clasped his hands behind his back and felt the corners of his mouth tick up just so, the image of a confident man, intrigued when Will met his eyes again. 

“... You really mean that. This painting is very important to you.” Those blue eyes furrowed slightly as they took in Hannibal, reading past his carefully chosen words and armor. The predator froze for a moment. He was as controlled as ever, certain that he carried the air of just another art collector with too much money drifting in, and yet somehow it felt like the other man _ saw _him. 

Will blinked and the spell was broken as he quickly picked up his notepad and went back to scribbling notes. “It’s a small painting,” his words came out a little rushed, “I’d say the average restoration would take 2-3 months, give or take, but for the level of detail you want it’s going to take longer. The piece will need to be treated chemically to be cleaned of all that junk on top of the paint and the retouching will take some time in order to get it to the level of complete that you’re asking for. I will of course keep you in the loop, should anything unexpected come up. Have you put any thought to the frame?” 

“You’re not going to try to discourage me, Will?” 

Another glance, a pursing of lips. “... No. I can see the determination in your face. You know what you want and you have the means to obtain it. Most clients think they know what they want- until they hear how long it will take and how much that work will cost. We’ll work out some numbers, of course, and draft a contract. If you’re willing to be patient with the piece then I’m willing to give it my best go.” 

A small, pleased smile spread across the psychiatrist’s face. “I think this is the start of a beautiful partnership, Will. I look forward to working with you.” 

Will, in his curiously rude but endearing way, _ squinted _at him. “Uh, sure. So, like I was saying, the frame?” 

“Would you recommend a different one?” 

“It’s up to you. I can refer you to a local framer who does great work, but if you like the current frame, then it’s not a big deal. We can paint it here, hell we can even gild in for you if you want it flashy…” Will’s tone gave the impression he wouldn’t have agreed with the gilding despite his words giving the impression Hannibal had a choice. 

For a moment the stark white wall fell away and Hannibal was transported far away to a time long shut away in his memory palace. Instead of resting on an easel the painting was hung up on a wall of dark wood. The years had fallen away and the painting looked how he remembered it, mounted in a frame that was simple but gave the piece room to shine. He could smell a familiar scent of tobacco and hear the faint laugh of-

The man cleared his throat, stopping the memory. “I think I’ll take that referral. I have a different frame design in mind. Does he do custom carvings?” 

Will had a strange look in his eye but didn’t comment on the too long pause. “Yes, actually. I order a lot of my stretchers from him. I’ll get you his card. Do you want an in depth explanation of the restoration process? I can give you the outline, step by step so you’ll know what to expect.” 

“Please, I’m quite interested in the process, I must admit.” 

~~~~~~~~

When Hannibal got home that evening he began his usual routine- he removed his suit jacket, donned his apron, and began to prepare dinner. While he moved through the motions and crafted a delicious meal his mind contemplated the new puzzle he’d been given. 

He hadn’t expected to find Will Graham to be an interesting man, and yet there he was, carving into some choice thigh meat, attempting to unravel the scruffy artist who had looked at him, had _ seen _ him _ . _How much more could he see? Of course he’d researched the restoration company before he’d made his appointment, went through the online catalog displaying before and after pictures, but to find a man so singularly insightful behind all those canvases… 

While his meal finished roasting in the oven Hannibal picked up his tablet and started an internet search on Will Graham. Of course the first thing that came up was the studio, but with some searching he managed to find a thesis written on how to determine the time of death using insect activity. The roast finished cooking before he was done with the essay, the beep of the oven timer surprising him. 

He plated his dinner and did something he rarely did while enjoying the fruits of his labor- he continued reading at the table. He normally believed that a delicious meal deserved one’s full attention while consuming it but for tonight he had found something equally delicious for him to sink his teeth into- a new game that held an infinite number of potential endings, each more exciting than the last. 


	2. Sonata of the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Will hates being psychoanalyzed and Hannibal enjoys being manipulative. Truly a match made in heaven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Varnish is a clear finishing layer applied to a finished painting to protect the art and also to make the colors pop. Over time varnish, especially varnishes made of natural ingredients, has a tendency of becoming cloudy, yellow, and even brown. Will will be removing the old, discolored varnish and replace it with a new coat once he’s done with restorations. 
> 
> The chapter title is inspired by another work by the same Lithuanian painter mentioned in chapter one~
> 
> I was thinking about updating weekly, but I was too proud of this chapter so you get it early~ thank you for all the kudos ☺️

Per their contract, Hannibal would come by the studio every other week to check the restoration progress. Will had been quite clear that many of the procedures he would be employing would each take several days to complete, therefore making weekly meetings unnecessary. Hannibal hadn't been happy to relinquish control over his newly acquired prize but had compromised with Will sending him email updates whenever a new process was starting in between visits. He was aware he was being _ that _client, but considering the large sum of money he’d been quoted- a trivial amount for Hannibal but surely substantial to Will- he assumed his behavior was expected. 

For his first scheduled visit with the painting, bright and early at 7:30AM, Hannibal arrived carrying in his insulated traveling bag and smiled when he spotted a furiously typing Abigail at the desk, her personal laptop open next to the shop’s. 

“Good morning Abigail. Is it midterms already?” He hummed.

The dutiful employee had the grace to grimace as she was caught focusing on something besides restoration work. “Good morning Dr. Lecter. No, not quite midterms, but it’s a first draft for my profiling course and the professor is a bit ...” She winched again. “Difficult.” Her eyes then glanced down to Hannibal’s bag. “What’s that?” She asked curiously as he set it on the counter, unzipped the lid and handed her her own Tupperware bowl. 

“A protein scramble. I thought it was the least I could do for scheduling so early in the morning.” He pulled out one of two thermoses and glanced at the student’s mug. “And coffee, freshly ground this morning. I promise it’s preferable to those instant cups you keep stocked.” 

She stared at him with wide eyes as she accepted the thermos and the bowl. “Dr. Lecter, I...“ 

“Hannibal, please. I hope it will give you the energy to finish your assignment for that difficult professor.” He chuckled at her before tilting his head towards the door. “Am I free to enter the studio?” 

Her face split into a huge grin. “Thank you Hannibal, I really appreciate it. Will’s already expecting you and shouldn’t be working with anything toxic at the moment so you’re free to enter.” 

“The pleasure is all mine, Abigail, I enjoy cooking for an appreciative audience.” He smiled again, lingering just long enough to see her take the first bite of car salesman sausage, before leaving her to her own devices. 

The studio space itself was much larger than the other two rooms combined, filled with large tables, shelving containing boxes of supplies and wooden supports. Classic rock was playing over the speakers today at a reasonable volume, while Will stood near the shelving. He was currently using a hammer and small tacks to affix a piece of canvas back to its wooden support. His movements were sure, quick, and strangely hypnotic. Hannibal wondered what Will would look like drenched in crimson. 

“I’m almost done, just a few more to go Dr. Lecter.” Will called out, not even looking up from his work. 

“Please Will, do call me Hannibal. Considering I’m trusting you with a very important piece I do think the formalities are unnecessary.” He walked over to an easel standing on the opposite side of the room, facing the window. A beautiful water landscape greeted his eyes, a bridge standing alone above a pond filled with brightly colored flowers, interrupted by a large white scar in the middle of the pond that appeared to be in the process of being filled in with paint. 

The hammering stopped. “Yours is on the back table, second to last.” He sighed, sounding annoyed with the socialite’s snooping.

Hannibal only hummed in answer and walked back to Will, his minute smile back on his lips. “Actually, if you’re finished with your hammer, I brought breakfast.”

Will set the canvas back on the table and scooped the remaining tacks into a jar filled with their kin. “Breakfast?” Hannibal could hear the frown as the scruffy man put his tools away on the shelf. 

“Yes, an egg and sausage protein scramble and a fresh cup of coffee. Please consider it a peace offering. I do realize that I’m asking a lot of your services and I’d like to show you my appreciation.” 

His words earned him a considering look, as if Will was assessing how rude he could be before Hannibal withdrew from their contract. After a moment he sighed and seemed to resign himself to his fate. “Fine. I haven’t eaten yet anyways, but let's eat in my office. I don’t want to risk getting food residue in the studio.” 

Nodding obligingly, Hannibal followed him through another door, away from the front room. This office space was about as big as the display/storage room, but was a bit more cluttered than any other room he had previously seen in the office. Stacks of papers sat on the desk next to a laptop that was closed and plugged in to the wall. All of this was expected, of course the scruffy man’s personal office space would reflect his appearance- the dog curled up on its fluffy bedding next to the desk, however, he had not anticipated. 

“This is Winston. Winston, Dr. Hannibal Lecter.” 

The dog in question lifted his head and considered the man. 

“Ah, it seems I’ve missed a mouth. Forgive me Winston, I promise I will make up for this grievous error on my next visit.” Hannibal spoke as he took the seat in front of Will’s desk as the other man cleared the space to make room for their meal. The dog laid his head back down, seeming to lose interest in them. 

“Missed a mouth?”

“Naturally I brought enough for Abigail as well. It has been a minute since I was a student but I do recall their love of free food.” He chuckled as he opened the container and handed Will his portion and some silverware, then pulled out the thermos, removed the lid and brought out two traveling mugs and poured enough for each of them before finally seeing to his own portion of food. 

There was suspension in Will’s eyes, clearly questioning his motives, but he opened the container all the same and took a bite. “Holy shit. This is actually really good.” 

Why did crass language sound pleasant coming from those lips? 

“Thank you, I made the sausage myself.” The man smiled before taking a bite, savoring the flavor before he decided to steer the conversation to a more comfortable topic for Will. “So, please tell me how things are progressing.” 

It seemed to have been the right move as Will immediately seemed more comfortable. “Yeah, like I said in my last email, the _ Stellar Sonata _was removed from its stretcher and I took some samples of the top layer of grime and varnish and sent them to the lab we discussed.” 

Hannibal nodded, having given Will free reign over taking samples and such, uncaring of the extra lab fees. “The stretcher is still in good shape, although I took another look at it and I don’t think it’s original to the painting. It’s not new wood but it doesn’t have the same wear as the rest of the piece… we’ll treat it and it should be acceptable though. I’m thinking there was a previous conservation attempt.” He shrugged as he finished his eggs. 

“Mmm well it is over a hundred years old, perhaps the wood was changed after World War II?” 

The restorer nodded. “That’s my guess too. I took a look at the painting though and I didn’t see any signs of new paint… it’s possible that’s where the bald spots are from, though. It might have been a shit conservation, could have flaked off.” He shut the lid of the tupperware and politely handed it back to Hannibal. “Good news, though, the lab got back to me last night. I know what varnish was used so I’ll be able to remove it with little threat to the paint underneath.” 

“That is wonderful news indeed. Now that we’ve finished our meal, shall we go see the Sonata?” 

Will glanced at the clock above the door, then flicked his gaze towards Hannibal’s eyes. “When’s your first appointment?” He asked, sounding curious.

A slow smile crept onto the man’s face. “It’s at eleven. Why do you ask?”

“Just making sure I’m not delaying anyone’s therapy appointment.” Will got up and headed back into the studio, trusting Hannibal to follow. 

“What made you guess I’m a therapist?” He did obediently follow Will back to the table that had been pointed out to him earlier. 

“The questions you ask, the way you tilt your head when you’re listening. I thought you were a surgeon at first, though. You have the hands for it.” 

The canvas fabric of the _ Stellar Sonata _ was laying flat on the humming tabletop without its wooden stretcher bars, resting under a sheet of plastic and on top of a white pad, surrounded on all sides by a strip of fabric that was creating a vacuum seal, forcing the painting flat. 

“It’s currently undergoing a heat and humidity treatment that will help smooth out any ripples or imperfections in the canvas so that when I remount it it’ll stay smooth.” Will spoke again, not giving the smirking doctor a chance to respond. “After I remount it the cleaning process will begin. I can email you progress photos of that, but given the size of the piece, I expect I’ll be done with that step in a week, maybe two.”

“I used to be a surgeon, before I became a therapist. A very astute observation.” Hannibal hummed, eyes staying on the painting, hiding the pleasure that was present in his expression. “May I inquire about this table?” 

Will glanced at him, pursing his lips for a moment. “... It’s a heated suction table. It’s used for many treatments and is the heart of my studio. Since you’re a cook, think of it like your oven and stove top. You could probably figure out how to make delicious things without it, but it’s so useful and versatile that it becomes the center of your kitchen.” 

“A beautiful analogy, Will. Might I ask what led you to this path? Restoring beautiful things to their original glory? I have to imagine that you’re a brilliant artist to be able to repair such extensive damage.” He inclined his head towards the painting on the easel he’d been looking at earlier. 

Will bristled slightly, shooting a glare at Hannibal.

_ Oh my, have I upset him? _Will’s annoyance was a beautiful thing, flashes of something dark swimming behind those blue eyes briefly before the younger man turned and walked towards the easel, hiding his face. 

“You’d be wrong to assume that, Doctor. I’m not much of an artist myself.” He tossed offhandedly, voice deceptively calm. “Artists have too much _ ego _ for this job, I’m afraid.” 

Something akin to excitement seeped under Hannibal’s skin, making him want to itch. His smile grew slightly at the vague but clever insult, enjoying the game that had started between them. 

“Too much ego, you say? Please explain. Surely artistic talent would only help a restorer.” He carefully stepped towards the man, admiring the painting along with Will. 

“Artists have a habit of wanting to rub their hands over everything.” Hannibal was enjoying the dangerously calm tone of voice Will was speaking in, wondering at the depth that was beneath it. “They want to put their own mark on a work instead of letting the original artist’s designs shine through. They have a tendency to _ overstep _.” 

“I have the strangest feeling we aren’t actually talking about artists, Will.” Hannibal smiled. 

The shorter man- there really was only a few inches of difference between them- turned on him and glared, meeting his eyes without hesitation. “I don’t like having psychiatrists poking around in my head, Dr. Lecter.” 

_ Now where is this coming from? _He couldn’t deny he was enthralled, but kept his features schooled, lifting his hands in a placating gesture. “Is it so hard to believe that I’m interested in becoming friendly, Will?”

“That would imply I find you interesting, Dr. Lecter. If we could keep this relationship professional and focused on restoring your painting, I would be most appreciative.” His words clipped, rolling his eyes as he turned back to the work in progress. 

“I’ll have to work on that.” Hannibal hummed. “Forgive me for making you uncomfortable, Will, it was not my intention.” But absolutely his pleasure. He had plenty of time to change Will’s mind, this interaction only increasing Hannibal’s desire to see the inside of that skull. The puzzle that was Will Graham continued to fascinate him. 

Pleased with their progress for the day, Hannibal went back to the office and retrieved his Tupperware, placed everything back in the insulated bag and headed into the studio, finding Will sitting at the easel now, appearing to apply paint as if Hannibal was not in the room. 

“Please do send me those progress photos, Will, I look forward to seeing my painting reach its full potential.” 

Will shot him a look before sighing. “Of course. The heat treatment should be done in two days. Expect an email sometime after that.” 

“I look forward to it. Until next time.” Hannibal took his leave, saying goodbye to a grateful Abigail as he stopped to collect the rest of his bowls. 

He was in such a pleasant mood for the rest of the day, humming along to Bach’s Goldberg Variations during the drive to his office. Even Franklyn noticed the difference, though he took care to keep directing the conversation back to the man’s usual drivel. It really was time for him to refer him to someone else. 

By the time his late lunch date rolled around, he was still smiling as he arrived at a wonderful little French restaurant Alana had invited him too, promising it’d be worth the drive. 

“Good afternoon Alana,” he hummed as he sat across from his former mentee, one of the few people he could tolerate, “I hope the day has been kind?” 

“Hannibal, it’s so good to see you.” She sighed warmly, smiling. “It’s certainly been a day already. Thank you for agreeing to meet up for lunch, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen you.” 

She picked up her water and took a sip as the waiter approached them and took their orders. Hannibal was pleasantly surprised to hear the man was actually French and took the opportunity to order in the language, receiving a warm welcome from the man afterwards. 

Alana was still smiling after he left. “Always the people person, Dr. Lecter.” 

“You don’t know the half of it,” he teased, “I am just glad to know that the food here is authentic. Not that I don’t trust your judgment, Alana, but you know how particular I can be.” Hannibal chuckled, sipping his water. “But you’ve mentioned it’s already been a day. Is consulting with the FBI not all it was cracked up to be?” 

Her lovely face twisted into a grimace. “Ah, well about that. I wanted to give you a heads up that a Jack Crawford, the head of the BAU, will probably be calling on you soon.” She at least looked apologetic. “He’s having issues with a case, we all are, and he asked if I’d recommend anyone. I mentioned your name, since you at least have experience with profiling, but I’m sorry I didn’t consult with you about it first. Jack can be… demanding.” 

He paused to take that in, turning it over a few times in his head. “I see… may I at least ask for what case I’ve been recommended for?” 

“The Chesapeake Ripper. Apparently even Chilton has thrown in his two cents.” She rolled her eyes at the mention of the man’s name. 

She wasn’t lying, nor was she on edge. She had visibly relaxed when he had approached, making him confident that he was not a person of interest. A small, genuine smile appeared on his face. “I accept your apology, Alana. I’d be more than happy to offer my assistance to the FBI, though I’m not sure what more I can offer that you and Chilton have not already given them.” 

The woman relaxed again at the voiced forgiveness and smiled openly when their food was brought out to them. “Maybe with three heads we’ll finally get a lead.” She hummed. “But that’s enough about serial killers, for now anyway. How have you been?” 

“I’ve been well,” he answered honestly, “I recently came across a painting by a Lithuanian artist and I’m currently in the process of having it restored. It’s a truly fascinating field, truthfully not one I’ve ever put much thought into and yet it’s so necessary.” 

Hannibal couldn’t help but notice the way Alana paused, fork halfway to her mouth. He raised an eyebrow in question. 

“Er… May I ask _ who _you’re going to for the restoration?” She asked carefully. 

He blinked and tilted his head. “_ Graham’s Restorations _in Virginia. His studio isn’t too far from the academy, actually, and his services were recommended to me by a trusted acquaintance… Why do you ask?” 

Her eyes widened and she let out a surprised breath. “Will Graham? So he’s doing well then?” 

Hannibal frowned. “Yes, though he seemed rather annoyed with me today. How do you know him, if you don’t mind me asking? You seem quite surprised to hear about him.” 

“Well, he actually taught at the FBI academy, for about a year I believe.” She gave an awkward laugh, “It was the first year I started consulting and we met a few times. I’m not surprised to hear he was…” she waved her hand in the air, not wanting to be rude. “He had a rather deep dislike for psychologists while I knew him.” She gave another soft laugh, reminiscing. “I’m really glad to hear he’s doing well for himself though. He was a good guy.” 

He greedily hoarded away this new information, adding the acquired piece to the puzzle. He hid his hunger behind his mask as he smiled sheepishly at Alana. “I realize it may be rude to ask, but can you please tell me why he abhors our profession? I have to agree he seems like a ‘good guy’ beneath the scruff and his avoidance of eye contact. When I tried to befriend him, he seemed to become rather defensive.” 

Alana set her fork down and let out a sigh through her nose, glancing away, appearing to be debating how much she could politely say without coming off as gossipy. Alana, bless her, was one of the few good people he had met during his years. She was forward and precise but also kind. Her instinct was to help people- and that’s exactly the instinct he preyed on. 

“I… won’t give specifics, I think that would be unfair to him, especially since he has clearly worked hard to separate himself from our line of work,” she gave an imploring look before continuing on, “Will has experienced multiple psychologists through the years that had been more interested in picking his brain, for one reason or another, than trying to help him. This made him wary, and during the year I knew him, he was asked to consult on a number of cases and it…” she grimaced, “it wasn’t good for him. I think he made the right choice when he walked away.” 

Hannibal had set down his fork, staring intently at his companion, taking in every word. She drew in a steadying breath. “Please Hannibal, don’t bring this up with him. He deserves to be happy.” She added softly. 

The man blinked and leaned back in his chair, momentarily shocked into silence. “... Thank you, Alana. I will tread carefully in my dealings with Mr. Graham, I promise you. You’ve truly given me a lot to consider.” He offered her a warm smile, putting her at ease. 

“It really is a small world, huh, Hannibal?” She chuckled softly. 

“And it’s getting smaller all the time, Alana.” He lifted his glass to her in a toast. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal, my dude, chill, you’re so thirsty.
> 
> Again. Thank you for the views and kudos. I realize this is a very specific AU and I appreciate the attention it has received. ♥️ Stay frosty~


	3. Sonata of the Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal has a good day, people are getting killed, and Bedelia is very tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your kind comments, your kudos, and your eyes. I seriously can’t believe how much people like this fic ♥️ I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please mind the updated tags ♥️

Hannibal spent the next two weeks as he normally did- hunting, cooking, and helping lost minds find their way to a darker path. Alana had been right about Jack making an appearance, however, and the FBI agent showed up at his office within a matter of days. Now his usual routine was spiced with consults and emails from Will with attached pictures of the true splendor of the _ Stellar Sonata _slowly being revealed.

Hannibal couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so many delicious things on his plate at once. 

When he arrived for his second scheduled appointment he greeted Abigail at the desk, handing her her portion of pasta. “Good morning Abigail. Have you heard back from your professor in regards to your draft?” 

“Good morning Hannibal,” she smiled warmly, accepting the offering as she moved some shop paperwork out of the way. “He’s still grading I’m afraid, but I had multiple people look over it so fingers crossed. How have you been?”

“I’m sure you have nothing to worry about,” he hummed. “I’ve been keeping busy, thank you for asking. Today I’ve brought Pappardelle alla lepre, homemade pappardelle pasta topped with a hare sauce. It is a dish native to Tuscany and one I enjoy for its rustic warmth. I do hope you’ll enjoy it as well.” He offered her the thermos filled with coffee, chuckling at the grateful look in her eyes. 

“Don’t tell Will but you’re my favorite client.” She mock whispered. 

That earned her a soft laugh. “Your secret is safe with me, Abigail.” Hopefully she passed the message on to her reluctant employer herself. 

Hannibal gave a little wave as he entered the studio doors, the corners of his mouth tilted up as he found Will sitting at one of the smaller tables closer to the door, rubbing cotton swabs methodically over the surface of a portrait. Beside him another canvas sat under a piece of fabric. “Good morning Will.” He looked over the curly haired man’s shoulder, admiring how under those diligent fingers the painting’s true beauty was uncovered. “This one doesn’t seem to be damaged?” He noted curiously. 

Will sighed as he tossed the dirty cotton swab into a bowl filled with other used swabs. “Some people actually take care of their paintings. This one just needs a good cleaning and a new coat of varnish. Not everything that comes through my door has been through hell.” Blue eyes glanced down at the insulated bag as Will removed his black nylon gloves. Hannibal could hear the exasperated ‘_ Really? Again?’ _even though the words weren’t spoken. 

“I enjoy feeding people.” Hannibal answered simply, his smile just a little too warm. He had taken great pains to tenderize the shoulder meat of a rather rude fitness trainer, letting it marinate for hours before he tenderized it with a mallet. It seemed like the perfect cut for his Pappardelle alla lepre as the hare for the dish tended to be gamier than domesticated animals.

He took the scrutiny with grace, his smile never wavering. The restorer finally relented with a grumbled “Fine.” 

They went back to the office, Will once again not checking to see if Hannibal followed. Winston lifted his head again, observing the men as Will cleared off the desk top. The taller man pulled out their Tupperware and situated the bowls in front of their designated person, before pulling out a third, smaller container filled with sausage. 

“Unseasoned sausage.” He flicked a smirk at the suspicious man. “I do promise I did my research. May I?” He certainly had Winston’s attention now. The older dog stood up then sat back down, tail wagging slowly.

After a pause Will shrugged and focused on his own meal. Hannibal smiled and fed Winston a piece, the dog gently taking the link from his hands before laying back down with it, taking bites out of it. 

“He’s very well behaved.” 

“He’s a good boy.” 

“I never had the opportunity to own a pet when I was younger.” Hannibal hummed as he snapped open his lid and began to eat. “I’ve been told I seem like a cat person.” He smiled wryly at Will.

The man looked like he wanted to say something rude but caught himself. He eventually settled on a neutrally grumbled, “Yeah, I can see that.”

Chuckling, the foreigner allowed the man to finish his meal in silence before they both packed up their bowls and headed back out, Winston lifting his head as they got up, hoping to receive another treat, but laid back down when they headed into the studio. 

“Does he stay in the office all day?” Hannibal asked curiously. 

“Sometimes he goes to the front room with Abigail. Most of my clients don’t like the idea of dog hair in the paint so he’s trained to not linger in the studio too long and I vacuum and sweep daily.” Will approached the covered canvas he had been sitting next to earlier. 

“He seems to be a loyal companion.” 

The shorter man’s lips quirked up in an almost smile. “He used to be more active but he’s getting older and he’s got arthritis so he’s content to just lay around while I work.” Then the fond look was gone, shuttered away. 

Hannibal hummed and placed his hand on the fabric. “May I do the honors? I must admit I’ve been looking forward to this since your first email.” 

A shrug. “Be my guest.” 

Hannibal was stunned into silence, overwhelmed. Beneath the piece of fabric the _ Stellar Sonata _ was radiant. No longer muted by years of neglect, the painting practically shined, the golds brighter than even his great memory remembered. Čiurlionis had intended to capture the feeling of music in the movement of his painting and Hannibal had to admit he had succeeded. The damage hadn’t even been touched yet, but already he was taken in by the waves, the crescendo, the tea cup was-

Will cleared his throat, interrupting the too long silence. 

“Ah, forgive me Will, I find myself easily overwhelmed by beauty. You’ve already brought so much life to the piece and you haven’t even lifted a brush to the damage yet.” He lifted his eyes to the restorer’s- who seemed uncomfortable and quickly jerked his gaze to the safe zone that was Hannibal’s cheek- and gave a warm, genuine smile. “I can already see it coming together… I knew I’d left it in the right hands. Thank you Will.” 

Will stared at him for a moment longer before he fidgeted and looked back down at the canvas. “I… yeah. Uh.” He cleared his throat. “So, I’ve already filled in the spots with missing paint with filler and applied the first layer of varnish to the piece. The first layer protects the painting and helps ensure everything I do is reversible, should you or a future owner not like my work.” 

“You’d mentioned that before… you put so much effort into your pieces, why make the restoration reversible?” Hannibal continued to smile as the man tried to find steady ground. What had he seen?

“Just standard conservative procedure. My job is to make the painting stable for the next 100 years. Should it need another retouch then I want to be sure my work is easily reversible… and they’re not my pieces. My job is to display the artist’s design, not my own.”

“Ah yes, the artist’s ego we discussed last time.” He nodded, looking back down at the Sonata fondly. 

“...This isn’t just some piece you picked up at an auction…” 

“No. It isn’t.” 

Will seemed to catch himself before he could ask further questions and Hannibal offered no further explanations. 

“You also mentioned previously that you use archival pigments when you do your retouching. Is it a special kind of oil paint?” The cannibal smirked, moving the conversation to a safer topic. 

“No we don’t use oil paints anymore. Oil paints oxidize and change color over time. When you slap new oil paint on top of the old it’ll just discolor after some years and look worse. I use a special brand of light fast, non oxidizing pigment suspended in resin instead of oil. Also easily removed with the right solvent.” Will cleared his throat again, seeming to finally come back to himself. 

The rest of the appointment was spent discussing the timeline for the piece, with Will emphasizing that he was starting the most time consuming part of the restoration. Hannibal of course understood and made sure to let the other man know he would be patient. 

After saying his goodbyes to Abigail, Hannibal returned to his office for his usual appointment with Franklyn- a rather sobering hour following his delightful morning. After cutting down the man’s attempt at friendship- for the third time that session- Hannibal was free to head to the FBI academy for his consult appointment with Uncle Jack. 

“Dr. Lecter! It’s good you’re here, we have a messy one on our hands.” Jack’s voice boomed as the foreigner entered the lab. 

“Jack, when do we ever have a _ clean _ anything on our hands?” Jimmy Price sighed, earning a chiding look from his superior. 

Hannibal approached the team, eyes immediately drawn to the corpse lying on the table. She looked to be in her early twenties, intact except for the open hole that used to her abdomen. The carver had carefully sawed away the skin and muscles below her ribs, following the line of the bone so that the natural shape of her rib cage framed the opened panel. All her organs had been removed, leaving her hollow, and then the cavity had been painted navy blue. 

“Regardless,” Jack’s clipped tone cut through his musings, “This is the third victim we’ve found matching this MO.” He reached over and grabbed photos from the crime scenes and handed them to the psychiatrist. “Women, all in their early twenties, are taken from a primary site-“ 

“So far two parking lots and one country road.” Ms. Beverly Katz supplied. 

“-Are killed, mutilated post mortem, and then moved to a secondary location to be displayed, which so far have all been parks.” Jack finished. 

“They look like… shadow boxes.” Hannibal hummed, laying out the photos on an empty tray close to him. In the photos, each girl had been hollowed out and then a small wooden panel had been inserted at the base of the abdomen to create a stage for the pieces that had been placed in the space. They all were posed naked, leaning against trees, eyes closed, looking as if they were asleep.

The first girl had a scene created with tiny furniture and dolls having what appeared to be a tea party, complete with tiny teapots and cups affixed to the doll table. The second had a collection of porcelain safari animals surrounding a watering hole that had been painted on the wooden slab. The final girl, who was also the one currently on the table, had been left hollow but everything inside, including the wooden base, had been painted a deep navy blue. Glow in the dark stars had been placed throughout the space, creating a mini starry sky.

“Oh good, our culprit is a crafter.” Brain Zeller sighed. 

“A shadow box? Do you think they’re meant to memorialize something, Doctor?” Jack forged on. 

“It’s possible. I think the victims are chosen based on accessibility and size rather than a specific preference. It would be harder for the culprit to drag a fully grown man from location to location, for example. The girls are left untouched and are meant to be the frames for the scenes they’re given to hold. They are emptied and the killer gives them… purpose.” Hannibal tilted his head, consideringly. “Perhaps they _ are _ memorializing someone? A child, perhaps, maybe a sibling. Each scene is filled with a childlike whimsy. I assume all the objects were cleaned of any fingerprints?” 

Beverly nodded. “That’s right. The wood has been hand carved to fit each victim and every toy looks handmade, even the stars. They used a common mass produced craft glue to adhere all the pieces.”

“We’re looking for a male, late twenties to early thirties. He works with his hands, so possibly a carpenter or other craftsmen by trade. He’s going to be tall and physically fit. These murders look rather clean, which suggests he has killed before, possibly to work up to what we see in front of us.” 

What Hannibal did not mention, however, was that an old patient’s face had come to mind while looking over the photos. Joe Harrison’s little sister had unfortunately drowned in a neighbor's pool and the young man had never really gotten over the loss, he recalled. He’d seen him while he was still an angry teenager, his parents concerned about his outbursts and aggressive behavior at school. 

Jack let out a heavy sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “Which means there’ll be more bodies to find.” 

Nodding, Hannibal looked down again at the safari watering hole, wondering what Will would have thought of the artwork. “He’s certainly not a professional artist, but he’s finally made something he feels proud enough to show the world. I imagine each scene is meant to represent the person they’ve lost. A young girl, by the looks of it…” He paused before looking at the picture of the stars. “Have you tried mapping the constellations he’s made? If he is as detailed oriented as he seems then he may have given you a location of a night sky.” 

“On it!” Jimmy swiped the photo and hurried off to get started. 

“That’s good work Doctor,” Jack seemed to relax a touch, relieved to have been given a lead. “We’ll let you know if we find anything.” 

“I hope I’ve been of some use, do keep me in the loop.” Hannibal smiled as he took his leave, wondering if his former patient had indeed created the tableaux. The works had the shimmer of potential but the scenes were still rather amateur in nature, he mused, lacking real inspiration. It would be exciting to see how the budding artist acted under pressure. 

~~~~~ 

Bedelia did not look happy to see him, but then, she never looked happy to see him. 

“Hannibal.” She drawled in that slow cadence she had. She didn’t even bother to ask why he had arrived off schedule, already resigned. 

“I do apologize for the intrusion, Bedelia, but I was wondering if I could move my usual appointment for this week?” He lifted the insulated bag in his hands as a show of good faith. 

“I suppose I don’t have much of a choice.” She sighed as she walked away from the door, heading for the wine rack. “You always do as you please.” 

Hannibal stepped in and closed the door as she poured two generous glasses. He began setting out their meal, smiling. There was no reason to lie, after all. “Thank you, I do appreciate the ear. I’ve met someone.”

That got her attention. The woman raised an eyebrow then her glass to her lips. “Met someone?” 

“He’s very peculiar. Intelligent, witty, and very rude.” 

“You hate rudeness.” 

“Typically, yes, but whenever he opens his mouth it seems like it’s in defiance to my expectations. He’s not easy to predict…” he sat down and handed Bedelia her fixed plate, then took a bite of his own, quieting. He picked up his glass and swirled the red wine thoughtfully before he lifted it to his nose and enjoyed the bouquet.

His psychiatrist allowed the stretch of quiet, offering no other prompt, knowing he’d continue on his own terms.

Hannibal enjoyed a few bites and sips before finishing his thought. “When he looks at me, I get the strangest feeling he sees me. I’ve never felt it’s like before.”

“To be seen is to be vulnerable, Hannibal. To be human.” She took her own, small bites of her dinner. 

“I think I want him to see.” He tasted the words on his tongue and she allowed him a moment to swallow and digest them. “But I also do not want him to become boring.” 

“If you grow bored of him then the game stops. What do you see, Hannibal, when he looks at you?” 

A smirk slid onto his face. “That’s the problem Bedelia. He keeps looking away before I can see anything.” 

“And you want his eyes on you.” She concluded. 

That earned a pause. Hannibal set down his plate, leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. “... I suppose I do. If only to see what would happen.”

“Are you looking for a friend, or another game, Hannibal? You’ve never been one to seek out company…” she raised her glass to him, “company requires trust and that is not something you have in abundance.” 

His easy smile returned and he took another bite. “Perhaps that is what I am most excited about. I do not know how this will end but it promises to be interesting no matter how the chips fall.” 

She regarded him for a moment, taking a measured breath. “I imagine being under your scrutiny is a heavy weight. If you are looking for company take care not to crush him.”

“I’ve heard it said that the most beautiful flowers bloom under adversity.” 

“Most flowers die. It’s the weeds that tend to live on.” She hummed. 

He considered this a moment. “... Then the weed is still all the more beautiful for having survived.”   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal is a TERRIBLE therapist.


	4. Funeral Symphony (VI)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quid pro quo, Abigail sees something Will doesn’t, and Hannibal’s gotta go to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y’all brought a flashlight because this is the chapter where things start getting dark, please mind updated tags! 
> 
> Chapter title is another piece from the same artist~
> 
> We have a point of view shift to Abigail’s perspective in this chapter~
> 
> I’m posting this chapter early to celebrate 1000 hits 🎉 thank you for every kudo, bookmark, and comment. Seeing y’all enjoying my writing really makes my day, thank you ♥️

The reception area was empty when Hannibal walked in, his new ritual disturbed. He was right on time as always, perhaps Abigail had called in sick? He headed to the door and pushed it open. 

“- I’m telling you, it’s fine!” Abigail groaned loudly. 

“No. It’s still too warm.” Will groused as he looked up and saw his client standing in the doorway. The two were standing in the back corner of the studio, their focus intent on one of two easels in front of the windows. “Hannibal. Good timing, come here.” He waved a hand, looking back at the easel. There was something decidedly less shuttered in the man’s expression, not quite fond, but definitely not as cold as the last time Hannibal had laid eyes on him. 

“What seems to be the problem?” He smiled as he approached them, coming to stand between them. His eyes drifted to the _ Stellar Sonata _standing alone on the easel nearby, taking in its beauty, before he turned his attention to the matter at hand. 

“Will’s been complaining about his color matching for the last thirty minutes and I keep telling him it looks fine.” The receptionist sighed long sufferingly, earning a fond look from Will. 

“Abigail. I adore you, but I’m pretty sure you’re mildly colorblind.” 

She gaped at him for a moment before turning her stare on Hannibal. “Do you see how he treats me?” 

The man tried to hide his smile as he unzipped his travel bag and silently handed her a bowl. 

Accepting with a huff, the young woman shot a glare at Will. “At least someone appreciates me.” She stuck her tongue out at her employer as she made her way back to the reception area. “He’s all yours doc.” 

Will watched her go fondly, chuckling. When the door clicked shut he spoke. “She’s a good kid.” 

“I’m inclined to agree with you.” He leaned in and examined the rather large standing portrait of a woman in a long red dress, her eyes downcast, smile soft, as if she was hiding her gaze from a lover. Hannibal’s own eyes were drawn to her arm, where a spot of paint was just a little off. “... And she just might be colorblind.” He hummed. 

The restorer snorted. “Sharp as a tack but art isn’t her forte.” 

“May I?” His hand hovered over the brush. 

“Be my guest. I’m tired of staring at this piece.” He stepped back a few paces and leaned back against the windows, leaving Hannibal to have a go. “Just dip that rag in the white cup, that’s filled with a solvent. It’ll remove the archival pigment but not the original paint. The paint dries quickly, it’s easier to dot it on versus using brush strokes.” 

Hannibal wondered what game they had begun as he followed the instructions he’d been given before mixing a few colors together on the man’s pallet. 

“Do you paint, Hannibal?” 

“I have in the past, though I must admit I’m more fond of drawing. Graphite and charcoal are such pleasant mediums, in my opinion. Drawing helps me sort my thoughts.” When he was satisfied with the color he’d created he dabbed the brush against the newly opened blank space, slowly filling it in. “You said you weren’t an artist but I imagine you must have some creative outlet, Will.” 

“Besides my job?” Hannibal could hear the smirk behind him. “I make fishing lures, actually.”

“Do you fish with them?” He teased. 

“I do. Truth be told I prefer fishing over painting. Helps me sort out my thoughts.” Will stepped closer and watched Hannibal work, observing as the man learned the medium. 

The psychiatrist set down the brush and stood tall again, letting the other man perform his inspection without stepping away to give him space. 

Will made no mention of it as he picked up the brush again, adjusted the color slightly and made a few more dabs before stepping back. 

A pleased and beautiful smile slid onto those lips. “There now, that’s better. Good work, Hannibal.” 

“Thank you for the opportunity Will.” He hummed, finding himself enjoying this strange bubble of calm. 

“The Sonata’s really coming along as well.” He moved to the other painting. “I’m starting from the top left and working my way down, every dot of missing paint, every imperfection, like we discussed.” Will hummed, watching Hannibal’s face. 

Hannibal frowned and leaned in closer. “.... This section had a great amount of loss…” 

“Yeah? And?” Will promoted shortly. 

“How did you know what colors to use?” He turned to him then, staring at his companion intently. Only the top corner had been retouched so far, but even then there were spots that had been filled in with such precision that Hannibal was almost convinced that Will had plucked a photo from Hannibal’s memory and used it as a reference. The level of detail that had been achieved was impossible without knowing what had been there to begin with, and yet Will had recreated the image perfectly. 

The clever man smirked cryptically. “Quid pro quo, Doctor Lecter. You tell me your secret and I’ll tell you mine.” 

He blinked before shaking his head and chuckling. “Have you started finding me interesting, Mr. Graham?” 

“Jury’s still out.” 

“My father owned this painting when I was a young boy. It was hung up in his study.”

“Why didn’t you mention that to begin with? Why hide it? Most people would have been bragging about finding a lost treasure.” 

A small smile crept onto his face as Hannibal regarded him silently for a moment. 

After a beat Will huffed a sigh and sat down at the easel’s chair. “I have a lot of mirror neurons.” He provided as equally little information as Hannibal had, amusing the killer even more. 

“I’m a private man and the painting brings back both good and bad memories, dear Will. I was orphaned at a young age.”

He received a cocked eyebrow at the endearment, but he soldiered on. “The mirror neurons cause me to have an empathy disorder. I’m able to put myself into other people’s shoes. When I restore a painting I _ become _ the painter. I know their designs like they were my own and I’m able to bring the piece back to life.” 

Hannibal froze, staring at the man, absorbing that detail, another large piece falling into place. 

Will’s expression shuttered again, his eyes darkening. “Don’t look at me like a rat in a maze.” His voice was a soft warning, like a knife wrapped in silk. 

“Forgive me for my rude behavior.” The man picked up his bag and moved to offer the blue eyed man his bowl. “I did not mean to offend. I find you very interesting, Will, but not just because of your empathy. You and I have a lot in common.” 

The peace offering was accepted with a roll of his eyes and they went into the office together. Winston got up and put his head on Hannibal’s lap, looking up at him expectantly. The cannibal obliged, offering the loyal dog his sausage. 

“I thought you were just another rich sociopath when you walked in.” 

A small grin slipped over Hannibal’s face. “And now?” 

“The jury seems to be taking their sweet time, I’m afraid.”

“Please do let me know when the jury returns from deliberating, Will. I look forward to the verdict.” He chuckled, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through him. It was uncomfortable, like he was being held over hot coals, and yet somehow therapeutic, like hot tea to a sore throat. 

~~~~~ 

Abigail looked up as Hannibal left the office and she smiled at him warmly as she handed back her tupperware. “97.” 

“That’a girl. I told you you had nothing to worry about.” He smiled as he settled his plastic containers. 

She beamed for a second, feeling proud. The young woman reached up and absently adjusted her scarf. “Oh, Hannibal, before I forget, I won’t be in during your next appointment. My mom is coming into town and I’ll be spending the day with her. I just wanted to let you know so none of your amazing cooking goes to waste.” 

He hummed in acknowledgement. “Nonsense, I’ll bring your portion as always. Will can keep it in the fridge for you.” He offered her his usual small smile. “I’m glad you’ll be spending time with your mother Abigail. Does she live far?” 

“Minnesota. Will’s giving me a few days off so I’ll get to show her around.” She told him proudly. 

“I imagine she’s a remarkable woman if she’s anything like you, Abigail, I hope the two of you have a lovely time together. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some patients to see. Have a good rest of your day.” The man inclined his head politely before taking his leave. 

“Good luck!” She called, waiting for him to leave before she went to check on her boss. 

“He seemed like he was in a better mood than usual. Did you have a nice chat with your favorite client?” She teased him, watching as he moved the large portrait from the easel and onto the table. 

He sighed, agitated. “I’m telling you Abigail, there’s something not right about him. He’s some kind of sociopath.” 

“But last time you said he had too much emotional depth to be a ‘bog-standard’ sociopath.” She reminded him as he went to grab the large painting’s frame, using her fingers to make air quotes. 

“That just makes him all the more suspicious. He’s too good at hiding behind a mask, even I have a hard time getting a read.” Will huffed. 

“I think he likes you.” She hummed innocently. 

Her boss paused for a long moment and then slowly set down what he was working on. “... Alright that’s it, you're fired. I’m going to look for a new college student, preferably one that doesn’t harass me.” 

“You’d get bored and snap at anyone else and we both know it. You’re stuck with me.” She laughed while he sighed, exhaling the breath out for much longer than he needed to. 

“You’re going to work on your group project tonight, yeah?” Will rubbed a hand down his face, changing the subject. 

“Yeah, I’m meeting up with my classmates at a coffee shop, why? You need me to make some calls tonight?” 

He shook his head. “No, I’ve just been listening to the news. I know you’re an adult, but please don’t stay out too late tonight, okay? And don’t be out alone. A girl was displayed a few days ago at a park just an hour away from here and I don’t like how wide that bastard’s range is getting.” 

She couldn’t really deny him when he looked at her like he cared. Will had basically taken the role of her adoptive father after her own had died, and right now he was just concerned about her safety. 

“Understood boss!” She gave a playful salute and he rolled his eyes. 

“Quit it. Don’t you have clients to call?” 

“Sir yes sir!” 

“I said stop.”

~~~~~~

Devin got an emergency call from his girlfriend and quickly left Abigail alone, their other partner a no show. The young woman sighed and packed up her stuff carefully, glancing out at the dark sky. 

If she walked quickly she could get to her car in 10 minutes- damn the fancy coffee shop for having no convenient parking. After a moment of hesitation she grabbed her pocket knife and found the weight comforting in her hand as she stepped out into the night. 

Winter was starting to set in, the evening air having a bite to it as she hurried along to her car. She’d never hear the end of it if Will found out about this. He tried not hover but he was a worry wart through and through. It was rather endearing, all things considered. 

Abigail saw a shadow move out of the corner of her eye. She quickened her steps, but saw it move again, getting closer. She quickly turned around, hitting the button to extend the small blade in her hands. 

She saw the glint of a much larger knife before she saw his eyes.

~~~~~~~~

Hannibal sat down to a lovely dinner he had prepared for one, sitting at the head of his grand table. Though it was as lovely and delicious as always- his compliments to the butcher- it wasn’t nearly as interesting as the enigma that was Will Graham. 

As he chewed his phone began to ring. Hannibal stood up and retrieved it from his coat, which was hanging from his coat rack. 

“Jack? Has something happened?” 

“There’s been a killing. We need you here, now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (:3｣∠)_


	5. Funeral Symphony (V)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal has a long but illuminating night and Jack has a bone to pick with Will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided not to leave y’all in suspense for too long, so here’s the next chapter! Thank y’all so much for your continued support ♥️ 
> 
> Please mind updated tags ♥️ hope you’re ready!

Hannibal parked his Bentley close to the large collection of police and FBI vehicles surrounding the blocked off street, the flashing lights casting a strange glow on the whole scene. He first noted the group of agents searching another parked car, their gloved hands removing anything they thought was of note. 

The second thing he noticed was Jack’s team surrounding a body on the ground, a large pool of blood surrounding it, reflecting red blue and white. His eyes were then drawn to Jack himself, standing next to an ambulance, a rather frustrated looking EMT, and- 

“Abigail?” Hannibal called, a rush in his step, shocked to see the young woman. She was sitting on the back of the ambulance, wrapped up in a shock blanket, looking lost and vaguely annoyed herself. 

The head of the BAU and Abigail both lifted their heads at the sound of his voice, Jack nodding in a grim welcome. 

“Dr. Lecter this is-“ 

“Hannibal?” Her voice cracked a little. “What are you doing here?” 

The agent raised an eyebrow, silently demanding an answer. 

“Abigail is the receptionist of a shop I frequent.” Hannibal explained, coming to stop besides the man, eyes locked on the girl. She looked numb, the usual brightness in her eyes extinguished. 

“I recently started profiling for the FBI,” he smiled softly at her, hoping to coax some answers from her. “Abigail, what happened? Are you hurt?” 

“She needs stitches.” The EMT growled, the annoyance lending to the notion that this was not the first time she’d said the words. 

The former surgeon froze, turning to give Abigail a once over. She obligingly lifted her left arm, which was currently wrapped in bandages and gauze, some red seeping through to stain the white. “... Why aren’t you enroute to the hospital?”

“I don’t want to go to the hospital. I’m supposed to be finishing my statement.” She replied calmly, but Hannibal could pick up her sarcasm. 

“Well I think you have two options,” Hannibal hummed. “We go to the hospital together once you’re done speaking with Agent Crawford, or I can get some local anesthetic and stitch you up myself.” At the disgusted noise the EMT made, he shot her a glance. “I was a trauma surgeon at Johns Hopkins for a number of years, madam. She would be in good hands.” 

“Trauma surgeon turned therapist?” Abigail asked weakly, attempting a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “That’s quite a jump doc.”

He offered her another warm smile and knelt on the ground in front of her, despite the expensive suit he was wearing. “Abigail, do you have insurance?” 

A pause, then a shake of her head. 

“Right, then I’ll gladly cover the costs of your medical care.” 

The student froze, her eyes wide. They were still blank and Hannibal suspected she was still in a state of shock from whatever had happened to her that evening. Jack took in inhale of breath from behind him, clearly disagreeing with his actions. 

“Why would you do that?” She asked quietly. 

“It’s the least I could do. Every time I walk in you greet me warmly and, to quote your employer, you’re ‘a good kid’. You have enough to worry about without medical bills being piled on top.” It really was the least he could do if this wonderful young woman murdered a man. He had begun to think of her as another Alana, intelligent and a pleasant dinner guest, but this night she had proved that she could be more. Maybe with a little guidance…

“You don’t…” Hannibal could see the moment the words reached the battered girl, some of the light returned to her eyes and tears welled up at his display of kindness. “Hannibal you don’t have to…” 

“I never do anything I don’t want to do.” He assured, his smile growing. “I’m sure your employer has told you I’m a ‘rich sociopath’. I can afford it, I promise you.” 

She barked a surprised, watery laugh that was nearly a sob, her hands reaching up to wipe away her tears. With both of her hands releasing the blanket, the Chesapeake Ripper could see she was drenched in blood, a mix of hers and the man who was currently lying dead on the sidewalk. He also noticed that her usual scarf was missing, revealing a large but old white scar on the side of her neck, as if someone had held a blade there. _ Interesting. _

“He did not say that to your face. Please tell me he didn’t.” She was still smiling. 

“Of course he did.” He lifted his hand, resting in on her knee. He could feel Jack’s glare on his back. “Now please, Abigail, you have nothing to be afraid of. Tell me what happened.” 

She sniffled but finally nodded, losing her smile. “I was working on a group project at Cafe Lucky, only one of my partners showed up but we got some stuff done. His girlfriend called and he left saying it was an emergency…” A shrug. “I didn’t catch what happened. I knew some girls had been getting killed lately, so I grabbed my pocket knife and walked to my car.” 

Hannibal nodded encouragingly as she paused. Jack was writing down her words and Hannibal was pleased at the implication that she was revealing more to him than to Uncle Jack. “What happened next?” The blood thirsty thing inside of him was dying to know. 

The light seemed to leave her eyes again, but Abigail did not look broken. She looked exhausted and like she wanted to be anywhere but here, but she most certainly did not come off as a young student who had just killed her first man. She was too calm, too haunted looking. 

“I saw some movement out of the corner of my eye, I turned, drew my pocket knife and he took a swing at me.” She looked far away, then, reliving the moment, her hands clenched into fists. “I dodged and swiped back at him. He attacked again and I…” A grimace, “I used my arm to block his knife and stabbed my pocket knife into his wrist, making him drop it. I picked it up after that and I…” Her voice cracked and she stopped talking. 

“And during all of this you never thought to call for help?” Jack demanded, clearly suspicious of her. 

Her shoulders lifted in a half hearted shrug. “Didn’t occur to me, no. I was too busy fighting for my life.” 

“Did he say anything to you, Abigail?” Hannibal carefully kept the pleasure out of his voice, staying clinical. The girl was indeed gifted, taking on such a large predator all on her own. 

She blinked at him, frowning slightly. “Uh… not really _ to _me, but when he was…” she glanced over to the body, trying to pick a word. “Bleeding out… he said the name ‘Piper’ and smiled…” A shudder ran through her. 

“Ms. Hobbs, I realize this night has been traumatizing, but you seem pretty put together for someone who was just attacked and killed a man.” The Agent hamfistedly growled, making Hannibal want to roll his eyes, but he looked to the receptionist to see what her answer would be. 

Abigail straightened her posture and met the man’s gaze head on, looking fierce, challenging. “My dad killed himself in front of me a few years ago Agent Crawford. You can look up that police report, it’s all documented. I’m not a stranger to death. I joined the FBI academy because I knew I could handle it.” She let out a shaky breath. “I’m not going to let that bastard make me sacred.” Her voice wavered but she still tried to maintain an air of strength about her. 

No wonder Will was so fond of her. 

Jack seemed to deflate slightly, believing her words. “And that scar on your neck?” 

Her lip twitched as she glared at him. “Hunting accident.” 

There was clearly more to that story but both Hannibal and Jack let it drop. 

The agent took down more notes. “And your employer is?” 

There was a squeal of tires as another car arrived on the scene, spooking a lot of the agents, some of who produced their weapons. A ruffled Will Graham exited the haphazardly parked car, eyes looking wild. Hannibal noted the look of recognition in most of the agents’ eyes. “Abigail!?”

“Will! Over here!” She lifted her uninjured arm and Will immediately rushed towards her, ducking under the police tape. 

“I called him first.” She explained to Hannibal before she got off the ambulance and met him halfway, the two embracing. Will looked like a distressed father, a few tears falling from his eyes as he hugged her tightly. 

The psychiatrist rose from his crouch, dusting off his pant leg as Jack cursed under his breath. 

“Jack?” He asked curiously, as if he didn’t know. 

“You know him too, Hannibal?” The head agent asked lowly. 

“Of course, he’s her employer. I’m currently commissioning his oil painting restoration business. He’s rather talented. Why?” 

“That doesn’t look like an employer and employee to me.” He growled as the two spoke quietly, Will looking her over for injuries, Abigail appearing to try to calm him. After a moment she seemed to give up, as Hannibal could see Will’s reflected empathy, the pain in his eyes, when she clutched herself to his chest and began to sob. It seemed like Will really _ could _feel her grief not just sympathize. 

“No Jack, that looks like a young girl who’s found a surrogate father to replace the one she’s lost.” He let his disapproval color his words. “And a father figure upset he almost lost someone important to him.” 

His words earned him a glare. “_ That _is Will fucking Graham. One of the best profilers the FBI has ever seen, Dr. Lecter. He had the best damn case closure rate of anyone else and he walked away from that.” Hannibal saw Will’s head snap up in the corner of his eye, expression deliciously dark. “He knows how to get into the heads of killers and he-“ 

“Walked away?” Will called back, letting go of Abigail for a moment, taking a step closer to the agent. “Did you just say I _ walked _away, Jack?” 

The psychiatrist stayed out of it for now, watching Will carefully. His face and voice were deceptively calm, but that calm wasn’t hiding the irritation and annoyance that Hannibal had seen before, no. Jack had managed to provoke Will’s wrath, and it was a beautiful thing, the storm that raged behind those usually peaceful blue eyes. His anger was deep, deadly, and Hannibal had no problem imagining that expression on his face while standing over a dead pig. 

His heart _ fluttered _. 

Jack squared his shoulders. “Isn’t that what you did, Will?” 

“No.” He lifted a hand and gestured vaguely to the men and women behind him. “I think a lot of the agents here would agree that I had a mental breakdown. A rather public one, if I recall correctly.” He rolled his eyes, sarcastic and cutting. “I don’t remember all the details since I was _fucking _ blacked out for most of it.” 

“You just needed help getting back on your feet Will, we were there to help you, Dr. Bloom even-“ 

“Don’t you dare bring Alana into this, she’s the one who agreed I needed a new career path. This job was bad for me, Jack.” Will took another step forward, voice still calm but his hands were balled into fists. 

“People are dying because _ you _left, Will.” The head of the BAU jabbed a finger in his direction, a vein pulsing in his forehead. “You were the best at what you did and now innocent people-“ 

“Are you implying it’s my fault Abigail was attacked by a psycho?” The words were almost whispered. 

“Jack. A moment, please.” Hannibal interrupted, placing a hand on the man’s back, gently urging him away from the ambulance and away from Will, who had taken another step closer, eyes filled with hate. Though it was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen, the psychiatrist had zero doubt in his mind that Will was going to hurt Crawford. He completely agreed with the justification, Jack was being _ rude, _but he couldn’t really encourage Will’s becoming if he assaulted a federal agent in the view of several other federal agents. 

Maybe some other time. 

The man actually moved along with him, but still shot Will a glance as they moved away. It took Will a moment before he returned to Abigail. 

“Dr. Lecter, this better not be a chastising moment.” Agent Crawford warned, clearly already on edge. 

“It is not, in fact.” Hannibal allowed himself a sigh. “I just wanted to break the tension before words were said that couldn’t be taken back. While I understand your frustration, Jack, I really do, you will not endear yourself to him if you bring this up in front of Abigail.” 

“I don’t care about _ endearing _ myself to him. I care about saving lives.” 

“Will has a life. He’s created his own and has even built himself a family away from the darkness of killers,” for the time being, “allow him his peace. Perhaps one day he’ll agree to do light consults, but if you start fights with him now he will just run farther from you.” 

Jack glared daggers at him. “We’re done here.” He walked away from Hannibal, once again being impolite, and headed back to his team by the body. It occurred to Hannibal that he’d never bothered to look at the culprit’s face to confirm his suspicions. He found himself without a desire to do so. He assumed he’d hear about it on the news some other time. 

He returned to Will and Abigail, who were chatting with Beverly Katz, who seemed to be genuinely warm to Will. 

“-Damn man, no we were all shocked to hear you got into painting,” He heard Agent Katz laugh as he approached, “but I’m happy to hear that you’re doing well for yourself, Graham. Really.” She offered him a smile as Jack loudly called for her. “That’s my cue. We should catch up sometime, let me know when you’re free. It was nice meeting you, Abigail. Sorry for the, uh, circumstances.”

“I’d like that, thanks Beverly.” Will smiled back and waved at her as she went back to work, Abigail was leaning her weight against him, looking tired. 

“Well. This has certainly been an exciting evening. Abigail, have you considered your options?” Hannibal greeted, coming to stand on Will’s free side, hands clasped behind his back. 

“Yeah,” she smiled sheepishly at him. “I guess I should get those stitches.” 

Will tensed next to her. “I can’t believe…” he stopped himself, letting out a loud sigh. He didn’t have the energy to scold her for not seeking appropriate medical treatment. 

“If the two of you are willing, I’d gladly drive you both to an emergency room nearby. I know the head doctor there and I trust his work and his staff.” At Will’s tired glance, he smiled. “It would be cheaper than riding in the ambulance.” 

The other man didn’t even bother to argue, his earlier fight replaced with exhaustion. “Yeah, fine. I’ll just…” he glanced at his car, still shoddily parked in his panic. “You mind if we just follow behind you? I don’t want to leave my car here.” He shot a suspicious glance at Jack’s back. 

Hannibal inclined his head. “Of course, let me give you my number so I can text you the address.” He produced his phone and was beyond pleased when Will gave him his personal cell without complaint. 

“Alright, we’ll be behind you.” Will waved as he guided Abigail to his car and Hannibal returned to his Bentley 

What a pair he had found. 

~~~~~~~

Abigail went to the back alone, leaving Will and Hannibal in the quiet waiting room. The silence stretched on for awhile, but Hannibal didn’t mind, too busy thinking the night over, designing and redesigning plans. 

“...Thanks.” Will finally grumbled after awhile. “For making Jack back off.” 

He nodded his head. “It was my pleasure. He was out of line.” Maroon eyes met blue, his lips ticking up slightly. “If you were arrested for assaulting a federal agent who would have finished my Sonata?” He teased lightly. 

He snorted in answer but looked amused, the most open Hannibal had seen him. “You would have just bought the archival paints and finished it yourself. You actually know what it looks like finished, after all.” He conveniently did not deny how close to violence he had been. 

“Perhaps, but I’d miss our conversations, dear Will.” 

“How long did you know about me?” 

He hummed. “Fair question. After our first meeting I had lunch with our mutual colleague Alana Bloom.” Will raised a brow. “I mentored her back when she was a budding psychiatrist, and she told me that she had referred me for a profile consult. When the conversation moved off of work, I told her I was excited about the restoration process and she asked me who I was working with. I confirmed her suspicions that it was you and she told me you were a former profiler. She was happy to hear you were doing well.” 

Will nodded slowly, able to tell he was telling the truth. 

“I only thought you were an exceptionally talented man, Will. You were the one to inform me of your gift…. Well.” Hannibal let out a tired laugh as he looked down at his watch. “Yesterday. My my, what a long day it’s been.” It was already two in the morning. 

“I wouldn’t call it a gift, personally.” Will smiled back at him, just as tired. “You’re the kind of control freak that goes to bed at the same time every night, huh?” 

“Guilty, though sometimes I find myself unable to sleep.” For various reasons. 

“Abigail said you’re paying for this visit.”

“I am.” 

“What do you get out of it? You’re not the kind of person that performs charity without a reason.” It didn’t sound accusing, only curious. 

Hannibal looked up at the ceiling for a moment, considering his answer. “... Is the jury still out?” 

“... Yeah.” 

Warm red eyes once again found blue, a soft smile on his face. “Then perhaps I’ll answer that when a verdict is reached. Mystery adds interest, after all.” 

“You’re a pain in the ass, Hannibal.” 

He laughed, warm and soft. “I would apologize, but we both know it wouldn’t be genuine.” 

Will was still smiling, eyes lingering on Hannibal’s face, the longest they had sustained eye contact. “As long as you’re aware.” 

“I am, and I’m afraid I will be a thorn in your side for awhile longer, dear Will. I pray for your patience.” 

“You’re not a religious man.” 

Would it feel just as good if Will _ literally _ took a knife to his chest and ripped him open for his eyes to dissect, just as his empathy figuratively filleted him open? If his heart’s skipped beat was any indication, then the answer was a resounding yes. 

“Maybe not but, occasionally one needs a little faith.” 

“Not a religious man, but one who believes in faith? I took you for the type who enjoys forging his own destiny.” 

Hannibal hummed. “There’s nothing more powerful than a determined man with luck on his side, Will.” 

They both looked up as Abigail was escorted into the waiting room by Hannibal’s old acquaintance. She gave the men a soft wave with her good arm. “Hi guys.”

After chatting with Dr. Wong for a bit, thanking him for taking such good care of Abigail, Hannibal followed the two out, having already given the staff all his information so that the bills would be forwarded to him and not the young woman. 

“I hope the two of you make it home safely. Abigail, if there are any complications with your stitches please tell me immediately, otherwise I will happily remove them for you after you’ve healed.” He squeezed her shoulder and earned a smile. 

“Thanks Hannibal, I’ll keep you updated, don’t worry.” The poor thing looked so tired, but she was keeping it together remarkably well. 

“Night Hannibal. Good luck getting to sleep.” Will waved as they walked away. 

When the man returned to his home in Baltimore, happy but ready for bed, his phone buzzed with a message from Will

** _Thank you again Hannibal. Tonight would have been a lot harder without you._ **

** _Any time Will. I’m happy to be of use. I wish you and Abigail sweet dreams. _ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She lived!!!! Our Abigail is a survivor, after all.  
I do know where this story is going and the minor death tag will be coming into play because Hannibal is Hannibal and damn he cannot help himself.  
Again, though, I just want to thank y’all for your kind words and investment in this story! It’s very much appreciated ♥️


	6. Journey of the Prince (III)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal has a conversation with Will, Chilton has an announcement, and Bedelia can’t catch a break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy guacamole! 2000 hits!!! I seriously cannot thank y’all enough for your support and enthusiasm!! ♥️ ♥️

His first appointment the next morning was Margot Verger. Hannibal was once again relieved that he only required 4-5 hours of sleep to be able to function after how late he had gone to bed that previous night. 

Margot was as lovely as ever, though she still didn’t seem receptive to his gentle urgings. Mason Verger certainly deserved to die like the pigs his family made their fortune from, but Margot was hesitant to commit the deed herself. He attempted to lead the conversation into finding a stand in killer before she seemed to withdraw into herself further. They ended the session shortly after, the poor girl looking like she had a lot to consider. 

He rather hoped she’d heed his advice, considering how Mason seemed to be escalating his behavior again. 

As Hannibal shut the private exit door he paused, hearing a faint shuffle in the waiting room. Curious, as his next appointment wasn’t scheduled for another hour, he walked over and pulled the door open. 

Will greeted him from the other side, looking at a painting hanging on the wall. 

“Will? I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon.” 

The other man glanced at him, nodding. “I had to stop by the shop to put up a sign explaining we’re closed and to forward any phone calls to my cell. I thought I’d… drop by.” 

He took a step back, opening the door wide for him. “Please, come in Will. My next appointment isn’t for another hour. What did you want to talk about? Family, perhaps?” He teased. Hannibal was incredibly pleased that Will had sought him out on his own, even if he hadn’t given him a polite warning. 

Will shot him a chiding look. “Family? I’m not here for therapy, _ Dr. _Lecter. And that’s some lazy psychiatry, might I add.” 

“Family molds us, Will. They affect our associations, both positively and negatively. I find it can be a good place to start.” He chuckled and went to sit in his chair, watching as Will roamed his office. “Forgive me. It’s hard to turn off that switch, especially in this room. Please, why have you come all the way to Baltimore? How is Abigail?” 

He watched those deft fingers trace the spine of his book collection. “Abigail is doing okay. She spent the night with me and is taking the rest of the week off to recover. How did your family mold you, Hannibal?” 

A soft hum left him. “I feel their loss was more substantial than their presence in my life at that age. With my family gone I was forced to create my own mold.” 

Will glanced at him then, reading his face. “... That must have been hard.” 

A shrug. “We can only know our true selves when we are faced with adversity, dear Will. One must beat the sculpture out of the marble, as it were.” He chuckled. “Did you really come all this way to profile me, Will?” His voice was warm, reflecting his enjoyment at having their roles reversed. He was careful with his words, giving Will just enough of the truth to entice him. If he voiced his true opinion on his own becoming then the game might end sooner than he’d like- and he couldn’t have that. 

The other man hummed and finally took the seat across from Hannibal, meeting his gaze head on. “Sort of. You wouldn’t say why you were helping Abigail, but I thought I’d ask what you expected in return for your help.” 

Hannibal raised an unimpressed brow. “I expect nothing from Abigail. All I want is for her to find her best self. Feel free to let her know that if she needs someone to talk to my services are free of charge.”

“See, there you go again, offering your time and money, pretending like you aren’t up to something.” Will grunted, frowning at him. 

Hannibal sighed, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “I’ve already shown my hand to you, Will.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. “But that’s not what concerns you. You’re worried I have a nefarious plot against Abigail. I don’t.” He opened his hands, displaying himself and figuratively his intentions. “She’s a bright young woman and she’s important to you. I think she has great potential and I have no problem giving her a helping hand.” 

Will seemed to relax slightly, taking in his honesty. “... You’re not showing me your full hand. You have a few more cards up your sleeve.” It was a statement of fact, one Hannibal couldn’t help but confirm with the small smile that slipped onto his face. “... So this is about me, then.” 

“There aren’t many people I find interesting, Will. You continue to surprise me.” 

Will rubbed a hand down his face, grunting in acknowledgment. “And you like to view people as playthings, experiments to amuse yourself.” 

“I never claimed to be a saint.” He chuckled. 

“If you hurt Abigail…” He growled. 

“I thought we agreed this was about you, Will.” He hummed. 

The glare he was given was intense for a moment, presumably a mixture of being annoyed and not knowing what to do about it, but then melted into resignation. “I had a father. Didn’t know my mother.” 

Hannibal tried not to perk up too obviously. “Dead?”

“She left when I was young.” He shrugged his shoulder. “How did you become an orphan?” 

“Lithuania was rather unstable after the Second World War. Factions gaining and losing power, social unrest… my parents were killed during an especially violent movement.” He continued to smile, leaning back in his chair. “My uncle adopted me sometime later, when he found out I was still alive. What about your father?” 

Will shrugged a shoulder. “He did his best. We moved around a lot. He mostly worked on boat motors.” 

Hannibal glanced up at the clock and sighed, genuinely disappointed at the hour. “Will, I’m afraid my next appointment is in fifteen minutes.” He met those blue eyes, swirling with something he couldn’t name. Where was this openness coming from? A debt owed to Abigail, perhaps? “I would love to continue this conversation, however. How about over lunch? My treat. I’ll be free at eleven.” 

The other man was already shaking his head, standing up. “I should be getting back to Wolftrap, actually. Maybe next time. I assume you understand why the Sonata is on the back burner, for the moment.” He held his hand out for a shake. 

Hannibal gave the hand a firm shake and a squeeze, his touch warm. Will almost always avoided physical contact. “I will be holding you to that lunch, Will, and of course I understand. Last night was just as traumatic for you.” His tone was more serious than the promise of lunch required. It earned him an upturn of Will’s lips.

“I’m sure. Good day, Doctor.” 

He didn’t correct him, though he wanted to hear his name on those lips, he would not be giving him the satisfaction of getting a rise out the stoic psychiatrist. “Have a good day, Will. Please give Abigail my regards, and my card if she needs it.” 

He received an absent nod for his efforts and a wave as he left through the correct exit, leaving Hannibal’s office noticeably less vibrant in his wake. 

The rest of his morning went by quickly, thank goodness, and Hannibal was relieved when he was finally free after lunch to stop by the FBI academy to see Jack. 

He was less relieved when he found Chilton waiting for the man as well. Now there was a tongue he’d love to serve for dinner… 

“Hannibal! Good to see you! It’s been ages.” The man greeted, his smile as plastic and condescending as the rest of him. 

“Ah, Frederick, I wasn’t expecting to see you here, you’re usually wrapped up in the BSHCI. How have you been?” He maintained his politeness, unwilling to allow the buzzing of a fly to bother him. “And who is this you’ve brought with you?” He smiled, turning his attention to the young man standing besides Chilton. 

“Well you know things are always busy at the hospital,” the man chuckled, “this is our new intern grad student Matthew Brown. Matthew, Dr. Lecter.” 

Hannibal smiled good naturedly and shook his hand. “Charmed.” There was a look in the man’s eyes, a darkness just under the surface. 

The young man inclined his head in acknowledgment, staying quiet but his gaze was intense. 

“Things have gotten even more interesting lately,” Frederick continued on, smirking, “ever since we realized we’ve been housing the Cheasepeake Ripper.” 

Hannibal blinked and raised a brow. Chilton couldn’t hold a secret to save his life. “Really now? How can you be sure? Have one of your guests confessed to their crimes?” 

“Our dear resident Abel Gideon has confessed to everything. I’m here to give Agent Crawford the full confession and to talk about announcing it to the public so people will know that the streets are truly safe while he’s under my care.” Chilton’s smirk never left his face. 

“I see. Well, Frederick I do hope you’re sure. If he’s lying then a fake confession might trigger the real Ripper. If I remember correctly, your profile mentioned he was a very proud man and someone taking credit for his work might enrage him.” He hummed, tilting his head.

Chilton scoffed. “I’m sure. He was able to give details of crime scenes and he fits the profile perfectly. He was in the profession of being a doctor, he killed his family with no signs of remorse, and he’s intelligent enough to pull off the other killings. Not to mention that ever since he’s been imprisoned the Ripper has ‘conveniently’ not killed anyone else.” He looked so smug. Hannibal had an interesting urge to punch his teeth out. It would certainly make it easier to access his tongue. 

He nodded along all the same. “Those are some compelling reasons, Frederick. I think this news will certainly bring Jack some relief.” 

As he spoke, Jack’s office door opened and the man raised his eyebrow as he saw the two psychiatrists. “Gentlemen, come in please.” 

Chilton walked in first, head held high as his student trailed in behind him. Hannibal sighed inwardly, suddenly wishing for the calm of his morning with Will. The feeling gave him pause. That was something he’d have to look more into when he wasn’t in front of the head of the BAU. 

“Hannibal, I’d first like to inform you your profile for the shadow box killer was spot on. Here’s the file detailing what we found at Joe Harrison’s home.” The man slid him a Manila folder, which he graciously accepted and flipped through, despite having lost interest in the killer after Abigail had put him in his place. 

There were photos of the young man’s apartment, the most of note being of a child’s room that had been painstakingly created in the second bedroom. It looked untouched and the rest of the apartment only showed signs of a single person living there. Hannibal hummed thoughtfully. 

“Loss can be a powerful motivator. Was it determined who the child he lost was?” 

“His sister, Piper Harrison. Ms. Hobbs’ statement led us to his parents and they gave us the whole story.” Jack sighed, looking tired. 

Chilton twitched in his seat, trying to hide his annoyance at being momentarily ignored. 

“The loss of life is always tragic, hopefully they can find closure.” Hannibal hummed, closing the folder and handing it back to Jack. 

The man nodded and turned his gaze to Chilton. “And what can I do for you, Dr. Chilton? Your message said it was urgent.” 

The man seemed to sit taller, a smirk on his lips. “I just thought you’d like to know that I have the Chesapeake Ripper behind bars.” 

The agent raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Oh really now?” 

Chilton passed him a folder. “I have a signed confession.” 

Jack opened the folder and flipped through it, a deep frown on his face as he looked through everything. 

The silence stretched on for a rather uncomfortable length of time, long enough for Chilton’s smirk to drop. 

Perhaps Chilton was right. Perhaps the Ripper had been quiet for too long… He’d been lacking in inspiration but now, _ now _ he had certainly found an appropriate muse to inspire another sounder... 

He’d have to get started on the invitations. 

“Chilton, how sure are you that he’s not just claiming the Ripper’s killings for attention?” Jack’s booming voice lifted him from his reprieve. 

“I am his personal psychiatrist at the hospital and I can promise you that he’s genuine.” 

“A man who’s sanity is as questionable as Abel Gideon’s might believe a lot of things.” Hannibal mused, adjusting his cufflinks. 

The other psychiatrist shot him a surprised look. “Dr. Lecter, if memory serves me, you have not yet consulted on this case, therefore you cannot possibly comprehend the complexity behind the Ripper’s pathology.” 

Oh Hannibal _ did _love the irony behind that statement. 

“Gentlemen. Please.” Jack sighed. “I will take a look at this in more detail, Dr. Chilton. Would you be willing to allow my team to interview Abel Gideon?” 

“Of course! Call my office when you’re ready, we can schedule a time.” The other doctor slid back into his chair, ego soothed by Jack’s interest. 

Hannibal had to give the agent credit, though, he seemed just as skeptical as he should be, not taking the easy answer. 

“Dr. Lecter I had already cleared your security clearance to access the Ripper’s case file. Go ahead and look it over tonight and we’ll keep you in the loop with the Gideon lead.” The man moved to unlock the bottom drawer of his desk and produced a much thicker file, handing it to Hannibal, ignoring the twitch of Chilton’s mouth. 

He accepted it graciously. “Of course, Jack. I’ll have a profile ready for you before the weekend.” Nodding to the gathered men, he politely excused himself. “I’ll let you sort out the details here then. Gentlemen.” 

~~~~~~~

“Hannibal? It’s only been two weeks.” Bedelia sighed when she opened the door. 

“I’m afraid some things have changed since I last saw you and I find myself at a loss.” He smiled, not bothering to apologize as he stepped in, heading to her dining room table to set up their dinner. 

His psychiatrist dutifully went to fetch them some wine. “I don’t think I’ve ever known you to be at a loss for anything.” 

A chuckle left him. “I will admit it doesn’t happen often.” 

“Go on.” She handed him his glass. 

“Will came to my office today.”

Bedelia raised a brow. “Will being the ‘someone’ you mentioned last time?” 

He nodded. “The very same. He didn’t warn me of his arrival but he caught me between patients and we had a conversation about family.” 

The woman froze, taking in his words carefully. “... Were you honest with him? Did you talk about your family?” Not even she knew his history, though he’d vaguely hinted at it in the past. 

“I gave him the gist, but yes I was honest.” He glanced at her, taking in the hesitation. “And he was honest in turn.”

She gave a slow nod, urging him on.

“He refused my offer for lunch and left soon after. I later went to my consultation meeting with the FBI and was met with a colleague I’m not fond of…” Hannibal trailed off as he finished his food prep, sitting down at the head of the table, gesturing for the woman to join him. 

She obliged and took a bite, observing him carefully. She seemed rather surprised and he wondered at the cause. 

After a few moments passed with only the sound of cutlery on plates filling the air, he finally spoke again. “I found, compared to my colleague’s droning, I rather missed the calm of my morning.” 

Bedelia set down her fork, eyeing him carefully. 

“Hannibal… I think you’re infatuated.” 

He blinked, setting down his own fork. “... Infatuated?” This was a pill he hadn’t anticipated needing to swallow. 

“You sound more than just interested in this Will.” She continued on, looking as if she didn’t quite believe what she was saying. “People don’t often hold your attention for this long.” 

Hannibal leaned back into his chair, a frown darkening his maroon eyes. “... I see.”

He did not speak for the rest of the evening, too lost in his thoughts. He returned to his home after dinner was finished, his ears still ringing. 

_ Infatuated. _

In an effort to pull his attention away from the same circle of thoughts he found himself in, Hannibal picked up his tablet as he readied for bed, opening it to his favorite news site. 

** _CHESAPEAKE RIPPER BEHIND BARS _ **

He blinked, flipping through the article, a slow, pleased smile growing on his face. 

Apparently Chilton really _ couldn’t _keep a secret.

Hannibal set his tablet aside and grabbed the sketchbook he kept on the nightstand, flipping it open to a clean page. 

He had a dinner party to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all are the best ♥️


	7. Creation of the World (XII)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal prepares for his dinner party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little bit short, but I hope you’ll like it! 
> 
> Some google translated French for ya: “Of course. Do you speak French?”
> 
> Thank you for your eye balls ♥️

It took Hannibal a few days to plan his party, combing through recipes and his Rolodex, but he finally came up with a fitting theme for the night and designed the invitations accordingly. 

His usual graphic designer had made two mock-ups for him to inspect and he was pleased with the work. They had taken his sketch and added color and depth to his drawings- the card stock was a medium, warm toned gray with graceful cursive lettering in black. The text was centered in the middle of the card and bordered with red lines. At the base there sat a pomegranate, with a tuft of wheat and a lit torch standing behind the red fruit. 

Hannibal, pleased with the execution, immediately ordered a full set to be printed. High on his good mood he decided to take a gamble and drove to  _ Graham’s Restorations,  _ noting a now familiar car parked all alone in the lot.

He was mostly sure that it was Will’s old, beat up car as he had seen it at every visit but he’d never asked nor been around long enough to see Will enter the vehicle. It occurred to Hannibal he was unaware of where Will lived. 

He’d have to change that. 

There was no sign on the door suggesting the studio was closed outside of its usual hours so Hannibal pushed the door open, smiling when it was unlocked. 

“- Yes I’m aware we originally agreed on today being the date of pick up, but due to a family emergency, yes the one I emailed you about, I’m afraid-“ 

Will glanced up, looking incredibly irritated as Hannibal approached the reception desk the restorer was seated at. He could hear the loud voice on the other end as it cut off his dear Will and Hannibal was disappointed the phone was angled so he could not see the caller ID. Though, perhaps it wouldn’t be wise to kill off the man’s clientele…

Hannibal brushed the thought away, already certain that he could bring Will plenty of business by referring his services to his associates. 

Will closed his eyes, apparently trying to find some patience, and the psychiatrist took the free moment to take in his features. His object of infatuation appeared to be exhausted, dark circles under his eyes. He was covered in more paint than usual and, if Hannibal was a betting man, he would go all in on the assumption that he had nothing in his stomach besides a cup- probably two- of black coffee. 

The tired man pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes I understand the inconvenience, but I-“ He was cut off again. Hannibal reached over and set the two invitations he had been holding down in front of Will, those blue eyes snapping open, immediately on alert at the sudden proximity. 

He glanced down at the cards quickly then back up at Hannibal, looking confused. The older man merely smiled in return before he left the studio. It was clear the phone call was going to be a minute. 

Twenty minutes later, he returned with a bag of food in his hand and two cups of coffee from a local bakery. The reception area was empty so he let himself into the studio, pleased when Will looked up in surprise. 

“Oh, you came back?” He glanced at his parcel curiously. 

“You looked like you could use a pick-me-up.” Hannibal chuckled as he joined him in front of a painting he was currently in the process of cleaning. “This was a spur of the moment trip, so forgive me for not coming prepared with my usual breakfast in tow. I hope Bakery Lorraine will suffice.” 

A small smile graced him as Will shook his head. “You’re incorrigible.” 

“I have been called worse.” He smiled in turn. “Shall we move to your office?” 

“Yeah yeah. Go ahead. Let me just clean up here.” Accepting the dismissive wave, Hannibal headed back to the office and was surprised when he wasn’t greeted by Winston. He went ahead and shuffled the papers around and set the man’s turkey and swiss croissant at his spot on the other side of the desk and placed a rather lovely little sealed box of macarons besides the croissant as his companion joined him.

“No Winston?”

“Abigail is still staying at my place so she’s keeping an eye on the dogs. She’s feeling a little… lost. What did you bring me?” He eyed the long box suspiciously.

He couldn’t help a chuckle as he replied, taking in the  _ dogs _ \- plural- fact with muted grace. “A turkey and swiss croissant and an assortment of macarons. I prefer my recipe, to be honest, but these will do in a pinch.” He offered a gentle smile. “You look like you’re in a pinch.” 

“What, now you’re a french pastry chef too?” Will rolled his eyes. 

“Bien sûr.” He smirked as blue eyes flashed in recognition, surprising Hannibal. “Est-ce que tu parles français?”

The shorter man grimaced around a bite of food. “I grew up in Louisiana, I only know some Cajun French phrases.” 

“You’re full of surprises, Will.” Hannibal hummed, feeling warm. “Please let me know if you’d like to know more. I’d be more than happy to tutor you.” 

“How many languages do you speak?” He asked warily. 

“Eight, with English being the Eighth, if you’re curious.” 

“Christ.” 

“Well now, I’m not that perfect.” He purred, earning an annoyed glare. 

“I’m not touching that.” Instead, Will opened a drawer from his desk and pulled out the two invitations. “What’s this about?” 

“I’m hosting a dinner party in a month and I would be honored if you and Abigail attended.” Hannibal smiled warmly, hiding it behind his cup of coffee when Will flicked a glance at him. 

“A dinner party? Filled with your rich and high class associates?” His voice was flat. 

“I also planned on inviting Alana and Jack’s team.” 

“I’m not going if you invite Jack.”

“Would you prefer just Ms. Katz, then?” 

Will narrowed his eyes. “You’ll adjust your guest list just like that? For my comfort?”

“Of course.” He smiled. 

Those blue eyes stayed narrowed. “... I don’t think I’d get along with your circle.”

That earned a chuckle. “I imagine you’ll cut down anyone who looks down on you. I expect you to be yourself and I will not begrudge you for standing up for yourself.” 

Will took a moment to finish his croissant, mulling over the idea. Hannibal finished his coffee and got up to throw away the cup. 

“What’s with the pomegranate?”

“Hmm?” He returned to his seat, looking innocent. 

“A pomegranate, wheat, and a flame?” He tapped the drawing at the bottom of the invite. 

“What do you think?” Hannibal smirked, crossing his legs. 

“... I mean, Persephone and Hades come to mind.” Will raised an eyebrow. 

“Precisely. I thought it was fitting as we enter these Winter months. Persephone, or Proserpina to the Romans, has returned to her husband in the underworld and Demeter has forsaken us in her grief.” He continued to smirk, not hiding how pleased he was with himself. 

Will rolled his eyes, clearly disagreeing. “Alright, even  _ you  _ can’t be that pretentious.” 

“I beg to differ. It’s a beautiful tale of love. I’ve read plenty of translations of the original myth and almost all agree that Hades did love his wife. Of course, she also became elevated- from just a girl and a daughter to a powerful queen and goddess.” Hannibal laughed softly, loving Will’s contrary nature. 

Blue eyes rolled to the ceiling and stayed there, appearing to pray for patience. “Didn’t Hades literally kidnap her, Hannibal? That’s hardly romantic.” 

“Perhaps.” He knew better than to voice his respect for the god’s determination. “Some things have changed culturally.” He allowed. 

“You’re the worst.” 

A surprised, short laugh left Hannibal and he leaned forward, flashing a grin at his object of affection. “Again, perhaps, but I hope you’ll forgive me anyways.” 

Will blessed him with a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Look, I’ll think about it, okay? I’ll give Abigail her invitation too.” 

“That’s all I ask, Will.” He purred, feeling that sensation of hot coals in his stomach again. 

“Alright, I don’t mean to be rude but I need to get back to work. Get out of my office.” Will smirked, getting up. 

“Of course, I imagine you have plenty to catch up on. Let me know what you and Abigail decide Will.” He paused, considering. “And please text or email me a list of food allergies for the two of you, if you wouldn’t mind.” 

“We haven’t agreed to go yet, Hannibal.” 

“I’d like to be prepared regardless.” He hummed as they entered the studio again. “Have a wonderful day, Will.” 

The other man waved as he returned to cleaning the painting, slipping on a pair of gloves. Hannibal let him be, smiling to himself as he headed out to his car. 

When he arrived at his office, he checked his phone and was surprised to see he had a text. 

** _Thanks for breakfast. _ **

** _You’re more than welcome, Will. _ **

~~~~~~~~~

The rest of Hannibal’s day passed by slowly in comparison to his morning, but that was presumably because he was anticipating his evening hunting trip. 

He cooked his dinner, smiling to himself all the while as he waited for the city to finally fall asleep. He checked his phone at one in the morning and packed up his usual hunting gear, including a few organ containers packed with ice into his spare vehicle, the one not registered in his name and far more discreet than his Bentley. 

At two he headed out to a secluded country road, having been down this road a few times in the last few nights tracking his prey. He passed a stalled vehicle with its hazards lights blinking on the other side of the road, but kept driving for another minute, then turned around and doubled back. 

What he expected to see, when he parked and exited his vehicle, was his prey- an accountant he’d had one meeting with some years ago who was rather standoffish- huddled in the cold, desperate to get away from his stranded car out in the middle of nowhere without reception. Hannibal had carefully popped a hole in his tire a few hours earlier, just small enough to buy him time for this moment. 

Instead, the car door opened and a madly grinning Matthew Brown greeted him. 

“I knew it. You’re  _ him _ .” He chuckled, just a touch madness in his voice. 

Hannibal raised an eyebrow as he adjusted his leather gloves, glancing at the back seat of the car where his prey sat, unconscious, a tie stuffed in his mouth. 

Well this was certainly awkward. 

“Matthew Brown, what a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?” He kept his tone light, watching every twitch of the young man. 

“You’re the Ripper, aren’t you?” He just kept grinning, looking so pleased with himself. “I saw something in you, when we met, but holy shit I didn’t think you’d be the big man himself.” 

“It’s rather rude to interrupt, Matthew.” He sighed, taking a step closer. 

He raised his hands in answer, still smiling. “Hey hey, relax. I’m like you. We’re the same.” 

They most certainly weren’t, but Hannibal let the young man speak his mind. 

“I didn’t touch the guy, just gift wrapped him for you. I wanted to watch you work, honestly. I’ve been keeping an eye on you. Maybe you’d consider a mentorship? There’s no one better than you to learn from.” There was awe in his voice that hinted at a deep, fanatical devotion just under the surface. 

That gave Hannibal pause and he considered it, crossing his arms. After a moment he hummed, keeping his emotions under his mask. “I suppose I could consider taking on an apprentice… but you’ll have to prove yourself beyond taking someone else’s prey.” 

“Anything.” 

The man couldn’t help his small, dark smile. “Has Chilton ever mentioned a Will Graham?” 

Matthew tilted his head. “The ex-profiler with the empathy disorder? Yeah, once or twice.” 

“Jack has confided in me that he will be bringing Mr. Graham back onto my case. I’ve recently contracted his restoration business without knowledge of his previous profession and I’m afraid he’s been looking at me rather closely as of late. If he joins Jack’s team again he will make a nuisance of himself. If you’d be so kind as to rid me of him, I’d certainly consider your offer.” 

Matthew’s grin somehow grew even larger. “Yeah, I can definitely do that for you Dr. Lecter.” 

Hannibal hummed and fetched one of Will’s business cards from his glove compartment, handing it to the young man. “Next Thursday evening he will be working at his studio alone. His assistant will be out visiting with her mother. I hope that’s all the information you’ll need?” 

Matthew nodded his head eagerly. “Of course Dr. Lecter, consider it done.” The boy retreated into the woods that bordered the road and after a moment another car emerged and drove off. 

If this worked out the way he planned then he would be able to witness Will’s becoming much sooner than he had anticipated. He could already imagine Will, covered in blood, looking up at him with fearful eyes, needing someone to help move the body, needing someone to keep a secret… 

It was delicious. 

Humming to himself, Hannibal retrieved the unconscious and slightly bloodied accountant from the back of the car. It wouldn’t do to waste perfectly good meat after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t be Hannibal kids, sending hit men after your crush is not a good idea.


	8. Sonata of the Pyramids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will receives an uninvited guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains graphic violence, please be aware! 
> 
> In order to make up for the last chapter being short, here’s chapter eight! ♥️ 
> 
> This chapter contains a shift to Will’s perspective.

Hannibal arrived at his appointment on time as always and confirmed that Abigail was indeed not in. He smiled to himself, knowing that tonight his plans would come to fruition. 

Hannibal’s blood burned with anticipation. He had already considered multiple scenarios for how the night would go, some paths better than others. If he lost Will he’d certainly be disappointed but after disposing of Matthew Brown he would be able to consume Will in his entirety- and that would certainly be a delicious end in its own right. 

Inside the studio, his resteror was sitting by the back windows, working on retouching paintings. 

“Hey Hannibal.” 

“Good morning Will. Shall we have breakfast?” He smiled. 

Will set down his paintbrush and stretched, giving a yawn before standing up. “Yeah. What did you bring today?” He called over his shoulder as he headed into the office, already accepting of their ritual. 

“Boudin Noir aux pommes. French blood sausage with apples. I felt a French recipe was appropriate after learning of our shared language.” 

Will hummed as he was handed his bowl, popping the lid. “Hmmm, nutmeg?” He guessed. 

Hannibal smiled warmly in answer as he sat down to his own portion. “Yes, the apples are cooked in heavy cream and topped with nutmeg. I made the blood sausage myself, naturally.” 

“Where’d you get the blood?” 

“My local butcher. He sources ethically and has the highest quality meat in the city. How is Abigail? The office does not feel the same without her presence.”

Will eyed him then, like he was considering his words before he shrugged and took a bite, humming in satisfaction. “She’s doing a lot better. I don’t think her mom could have come at a better time. How did you become such a good cook?” 

“Years of practice and passion, dear Will. I find there are few things as pleasurable as preparing a meal and enjoying it with friends.” 

“You like the attention.” 

“I do.” 

“Anyone ever call you a showy bastard?” 

Hannibal could feel his eyes crinkle in pleasure. “Never to my face, no.” 

“Your mask is dropping, Hannibal.” Will raised an eyebrow, spooning another bite into his mouth. 

Hannibal’s heart skipped a beat. “Whatever do you mean, Will?” 

“You’re smiling like you mean it.” He shrugged. “You hold up a mask and hide your true intentions behind it. You’re fake-“ 

Hannibal opened his mouth to interject but Will seemed to know exactly what he was going to say and beat him to the punch. “I saw you with Jack. Fake. Abigail? Fake. But you meant that smile.” 

Hannibal was still for a moment, assessing before a slow grin appeared on his face. “Well, Will, from the moment I walked into this office you saw through me like no one else has. I see no reason to hide from your all knowing eyes. I find myself enjoying being filleted.” 

Will narrowed his eyes. “You’re still hiding something, though.” 

“Perhaps you’d like to discuss it over dinner tonight?” Hannibal offered. 

Will let out a surprised snort. “You did not just ask me that.”

“I did, and I meant the offer.” 

“I’ll be working late tonight.” 

“I can accommodate with a late dinner.”

“I’ll be covered in paint.”

“A look you pull off magnificently well. True high fashion.” He smirked. 

He watched Will work his jaw for a minute before his shoulders slouched, his hand coming up to rub his face. Hannibal allowed him the moment of silence to weigh his options. 

“... You’re all the way in Baltimore.”

“I can deliver.” 

Will shot him a glare before sighing. “Fine. Not just a showy bastard, but a persistent one too.” 

“And only you would say it to my face, dear Will.” He hummed. 

Another sigh. “Someone needs to take you down a peg every once in awhile, Hannibal.”

“I can think of no better man for the job.” The older man happily stood up and packed up his unfinished breakfast, leaving Will his bowl. 

“Forgive me for making a quick exit but I will need to go to the store to prepare for this evening. I’ll be back for the tupperware tonight, if you don’t mind. I hope you enjoy the rest of your breakfast.” 

Will rolled his eyes. “You’re still a PITA.”

Hannibal blinked. “A  _ what?”  _

_ “ _ Pain In The Ass.”

Hannibal smirked and leaned down into Will’s bubble. “Will, I am one hundred percent certain that you learned that quip from Abigail.”

“Doesn’t make it less true.” He raised his chin in defiance. 

“I suppose it doesn’t. Regardless, I shall see you later tonight, around seven. Have a wonderful day.” 

“You haven’t even looked at the Sonata.” Will reminded him, looking annoyed. 

Hannibal offered another warm smile. “I’d like to see it tonight, if you don’t mind. I find that anticipation sweetens a meal.”

“Alright, seriously, get out of my office.” Will groused without any real heat. 

Hannibal gave a polite nod of his head before he departed. Will did not rise to walk him out of the studio but then he didn’t need to. 

Hannibal went to his favorite store right after, a high end market, one of several that sold the obscure ingredients he loved to cook with. A thought occurred to him and he picked up his phone. 

** _If I bring a portion for Abigail will you be able to deliver it to her?_ **

The response came ten minutes later. 

** _Yeah, no problem. _ **

He smiled to himself, loving the way the dominoes were falling. What pattern would they reveal when the last one fell?

The anticipation carried him through his appointment with Franklyn. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Will had had a long day. After Hannibal had left he’d been stuck managing the studio alone, juggling phone calls, client meetings, and actual restoration work without Abigail there to help him manage the business end. 

The girl certainly deserved the break but almost two weeks of being a one man show was starting to wear on him. 

And then his day got worse. 

The door to his studio slid open at around six in the evening, just after the sun had set, and he was greeted by a grinning kid in his mid to late twenties. He’d gotten up at five to lock the door and draw the blinds. 

Will sighed and set down his paintbrush, thankful he was all the way in the back of the studio working on retouching with a rather intricate lighting rig set up to simulate sunlight behind him- he’d managed to get a little farther on the Sonata. 

“There’s nothing worth stealing here, kid. Get out of here before I have to call the police.” 

“Oh I’m not here to steal anything, Graham.” He stepped into the studio, the door closing behind him, in his hand a rather large butcher knife. Will’s favorite true crime podcast was ironically playing over the speakers above them, really adding to the ambiance. 

The resteror shook his head and stood up, picking up the Sonata and moving it over to the storage shelves near him. It’d be a shame if something happened to it. He briefly wondered if Hannibal was capable of crying. 

“Alright, if you know who I am then you know I’m an ex-cop. You really sure you want to do this? Seems kinda pointless.” He drawled turning back to look at the crazy kid in his studio, eyeing him up like a shark that just caught the scent of blood in the water. 

“The Chesapeake Ripper sends his regards.” The young man stalked closer, slow and measured, taking in Will’s relaxed form. 

He raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “The Ripper? Really now?” Will finally met the boy’s eyes, taking in his emotions. He certainly  _ believed _ he was working for the Ripper- and he was certainly crazy enough to kill Will, leaving no room for negotiations. He broke the eye contact and sighed again, hating the way the other’s craziness itched inside his skull, his empathy forcing him to  _ know.  _

_ See? _

Will shrugged off the feeling, not letting it overwhelm him. “What, the Ripper’s outsourcing labor now? He’s really gotten cheap, hasn’t he?” 

“He asked me personally to kill you, Graham, and after I’m done with you he’s going to-“ 

“The Ripper is a lone killer. Always has been, always will be. Hate to break it to you, but you’re just an errand boy, kid.” Will crossed his arms and finally moved away from the shelving, circling his attacker, moving to put a table between them, mirroring his steps. 

It was easy to find his weak spots, striking where he knew it would hurt most. He growled angrily, just as Will knew he would. 

“God, where did he even find you? How many people have you killed? Two?” 

The glare he was given proved his was right, and Will whistled. “Yeah. Just starting out, huh?”

“I know what you’re doing.” The younger man snapped. 

“Yeah? It’s still working though, isn’t it?” He smirked, swiping his hammer off the shelf he kept his canvas supplies, not bothering to hide the movement. “I’ve caught plenty of killers in my time, kid-“

“Quit calling me kid!” The kid growled as he jumped over the table and threw himself at Will, knife drawn up, ready to sink into flesh. 

Will wasn’t having any of it. 

He ducked down and rolled away, just missing the attack. Will shot his leg out and attempted to knock the other’s feet out from under him as he landed and tried to pivot off the shelving unit, knocking a lot of things to ground- including the steel tacks he used to remount canvases.

The younger male managed to avoid Will’s kick but still lost his balance thanks to the shelf, hitting the ground hard, angling his body so that his side took most of the impact- right onto the spilled tacks.

“Fuck!” He hissed, grip loosening around the knife. He tried to push himself back up but he only succeeded in puncturing his free hand as well. 

The older man rose to his feet, quickly stepping into the sharp mess- thankful for the thick soles of his boot- and stomped down on the hand holding the knife, driving it down onto more tacks. 

“Hey kid. Look at me for a sec.” Will tilted his head as a glare was leveled up at him, the downed man’s free hand striking out to claw at his ankle. “Were you the kind of psychopath that started with torturing animals?” 

A look of confusion flickered over his would-be attackers face, but that was all he needed. 

“I don’t take kindly to animal abusers.” He said softly, face void of emotion as he kicked his steel toed work boot against the younger male’s temple. 

With the threat unconscious- and probably concussed- Will used some framing wire to tie his hands behind his back, glancing at the clock. 

Something dark had settled in the pit of his stomach and he had a feeling he was going to get more answers if he waited for a certain sociopath to arrive.

_ See? _

~~~~~~

Hannibal arrived exactly at seven, humming to himself softly as he entered the main office, noting that he was met with silence. There was no music playing or sounds of a scuffle. Curious, he pushed open the door and blinked at what he saw. 

Will was sitting on one of the tables close to the door, fiddling with a butcher’s knife casually as Matthew Brown laid on the ground against one of the shelving units, a small amount of blood splattered around him, his hands tied behind his back with some kind of thick wire, and canvas stuffed into his mouth. He briefly wondered about the tacks littering his body. 

Hannibal was both enthralled and disappointed Matthew was still breathing. 

“Hannibal,” Will’s calm voice greeted him, blue eyes meeting maroon. There was no panic there, no fear or sign of being ruffled, instead only a flat stillness, like the calm before a storm. “Did you send this punk to kill me?” 

The man let out a slow breath through his nose, his hands full with their dinner. He couldn’t help the pleased grin that slid onto his face. “I may have sent him in your direction.”

“Why?” 

“I was rather hoping you’d kill him.” He hummed, leaning his back against the closed door, feeling light headed. “I am disappointed he’s not dead, if we’re to be honest, but I also can’t deny how regal you look as you are now.”

Will frowned at him, not seeming to expect his answer. “Hannibal- and I mean this in the rudest way imaginable- what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Have you called Jack yet?” 

“What do you think?” 

Hannibal continued to grin his small, victorious grin. “You haven’t, but you should.”

“Do you intend on killing me with your own hands?” The knife flashed invitingly in his dearest’s hands, more beautiful due to the one holding it. 

“No,” he continued to be honest, “I will defend myself if you attack but I do not want to kill you Will. I’m afraid that would be a waste of such beautiful potential.” 

He watched as understanding dawned in Will’s eyes, flickering into confusion. “... You wanted me to kill,” he spoke hesitantly, testing the words as they left his mouth, “so that my hands would be as bloody as yours?”

“It’ll take some time before they’re as bloody as mine but the journey of a thousand miles begins with one step, dearest Will.” He purred. 

Hannibal watched in fascination as black hatred darkened those beautiful eyes, something feral creeping into his darling’s frame. Will was going to kill him with no regret or remorse and he knew it would be the most amazing thing he’d experience in his life. 

“Hannibal.” The words were flat, no inflection, no  _ emotion _ . “Did you send that bastard after Abigail?” 

Maroon eyes blinked, surprised the conversation had shifted away from the beautiful scene in front of them. 

In the moment he was silent Will seemed to deflate, the darkness leaving him in a rush. “No.” He murmured quietly, certain. “You didn’t.” 

“While I may be unorthodox, I do realize she’s off limits, Will. I’ve already told you I don’t plan on harming her.” Hannibal spoke softly, soothingly. 

He was still glared at, but it had none of the threat it had held just a few moments ago. 

“She’s off limits but my fucking studio isn’t?” Will snapped. “This is  _ my  _ space Hannibal, and you invited this prick into it.” He gestured angrily to Matthew. 

He smiled softly and set his travel bag down onto the floor besides his feet, rising back up. “Forgive me, Will. I only wanted to see you elevated. You’re filled with potential, I see it in you, that darkness… it mirrors my own.” He smiled back at him, leaning back against the door, body language relaxed but his heart felt full enough to burst. 

“You’re a narcissist.”

“Perhaps a bit,” he shrugged, “that’s why you surprise me, Will. I’ve never met someone I’ve considered an equal before.”

Will rolled his eyes and stood up, gripping the knife in his hands. “I’m supposed to take that as a compliment?”

A small smile. “It’s the highest compliment I’m capable of giving, yes.” 

A charged moment passed between them, Will tense and Hannibal smiling, before Will shook his head slowly, taking a step closer to Matthew. 

The older man’s eyes never strayed from his companion, mesmerized. 

“Here’s the thing, Hannibal. I refuse to allow you to change me. I am  _ me _ . I’ve  _ fought  _ to stay  _ me _ .” He growled. “I’m insulted that you thought you could waltz in here and manipulate me into being something  _ you  _ wanted.” 

Will reached down, digging his fingers into Matthew’s hair, jerking his head back. “This is what I do to people who try to fuck with my head.”

Will took the butcher knife and cleanly slit Matthew’s throat, spilling blood all over the floor, expertly standing behind the spray to keep himself mostly clean. 

Like he’d done it many times before. 

Hannibal felt his entire world shift out from under him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that eventual dark!Will tag? We got there. This and the next chapter are probably my favorite bits from the whole story, they’re the scenes that inspired me to create this world and make an actual plot. I hope you enjoyed the plot twist cause we ain’t done yet!
> 
> As always, thank you for your eyes ♥️


	9. Fairy Tale of Kings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revelations and clean up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t have an excuse, here’s the next chapter early, again, I hope you enjoy ♥️

Hannibal watched as Will wiped the bloodied blade on Matthew’s shirt, the unconscious man twitching and gurgling in his own blood as he bled out. 

He was glorious as he stood back up, glaring at the older killer, challenging him. 

Hannibal let out a shaky breath, breathless for perhaps the first time in his adult life. “... I see the error of my ways, Will.” 

He raised an unimpressed eyebrow in return. “Really now? Why am I skeptical about that, Hannibal?” 

“All this time I thought it was my duty to elevate you and all along you had already climbed that mountain yourself.” His voice was soft, reverent. “I was incredibly rude, Will, forgive me. I believed you were my equal but in reality you are my better.”  _ Half,  _ he finished silently. Two halves of a whole, one without empathy the other with too much, one righteous the other fickle… How had he survived so long without this man?

If before his deep feelings had been infatuation, what was he feeling now? What dark abyss had he fallen into after watching that beautiful display of power? Will was the only source of light he could see, the younger man radiant in his cruelty. 

The glare morphed into something akin to annoyed confusion. “Hannibal. Seriously. I’m threatening your life here.”

“And I am sufficiently threatened. It would be a beautiful fight between us.” He purred, warm. The mask was gone, there was no point in hiding his deepening feelings any longer. “I’ve often wondered how I would die and now I can think of nothing more beautiful than to be killed by the most glorious creature I’ve ever laid eyes on… and if I killed you, I would have the opportunity to cut you open and see what makes you tick… I win either way, Will. Well, one would be an empty win. I’d miss our conversations, after I was done with you.” He hummed in correction. 

“Hannibal.” Will sighed, shaking his head. “I hate to sound like a broken record here, but you do realize how crazy you are, right?” 

“I find myself more sane than most of the population, Will.” He chuckled. 

“You  _ would  _ think that, wouldn’t you?” 

The Chesapeake Ripper leaned down and picked up his travel bag. 

“Might I suggest we continue this over dinner? There’ll be time for action later, and I’d hate for your food to get cold.” 

Will eyed him for a moment before sitting down at the table, not dropping the knife. “Fine.” 

“Wonderful. Thank you for compromising.” He slowly approached the man, leaving him space as he moved to the opposite side of the table and sat down, unzipping the container, his smile never leaving his face. 

“How long have you suspected me, Will?”

Those blue eyes rolled, not really relaxing but he made no move to stab at him so Hannibal counted that as a win. 

“Well I didn’t think you were the Chesapeake Ripper but I figured you were some kind of crazy. I was waiting for you to slip.” 

Hannibal glanced at him curiously as he slid him his bowl and silverware, telegraphing his movements still. A thought occurred to him and he smiled wide. “Ah, yes. You did tell me you were a fisherman, didn’t you?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “The fisherman and the hunter.”

“It’s a shame, I was actually starting to think you were interesting.” Will opened his bowl, tone casual. 

The older man hummed good naturedly. “If you thought I wasn’t interesting you would have tried to kill me already Will. You’re just as curious as I am to see how this plays out.” He smirked at the glare sent his way. “You’ve never been truly understood either, have you?” He asked softly, feeling the kinship between them. 

When Will’s hand flexed threateningly around the hilt of the knife, Hannibal changed the subject. “Allow me the chance to prove my worth to you, Will. I will accept any form of retaliation from you while also promising to not attack you again- as long as you don’t attack me first.” 

He opened his own tupperware, smiling, for once forgoing explaining his meal. Their conversation was much more delicious. 

“So I’ll shred the Sonata then.” Will countered, glaring at him. 

Hannibal hesitated, body still while he processed that. Well. Almost any retaliation. 

“... If Abigail is off limits then so is the Sonata, Will.” He warned quietly, growing serious. 

“And why is that?” The younger man raised his chin, bristling at the threat. 

“If Abigail is your daughter then the Sonata is the last physical connection I have with  _ my _ family. I don’t so much care for the painting so much as what it  _ represents  _ to me.” He spoke softly, not quite ready to give the full story just yet. Will hadn’t yet asked about his trophies. “I will not have it taken from me again, even if I find you exceptional, Will.”

Blue eyes searched maroon for a moment, assessing his words and his emotions. 

He dared to interrupt the silence this time. “If you’d like for me to withdraw my contract, I will. I’d happily pay the quoted amount as you have done such fantastic work on the piece up to this point. I will accept whatever punishment your clever mind can come up with, all I ask is you spare the painting.” 

“... You picked tonight because you knew Abigail would be out with her mother.” 

“Correct.” He hummed. 

“Fine.” He grumbled, finally lifting a forkful into his mouth. 

Something inside of Hannibal relaxed and he let out an audible sigh. “Thank you, Will.”

Another grumble before Will paused again. “You’re the Chesapeake Ripper?”

“We’ve established that, yes.”

Suspicion creeped onto his features. “What do you do with the trophies?”

There it was, he’d been waiting for that question. Hannibal ate another bite of his dinner. “You’re clever, I don’t need to tell you.”

Silence stretched between them while he watched the former profiler map out the possibilities, Hannibal happily eating the evidence while he waited. 

Will grabbed the knife and viciously aimed it at Hannibal. “You’ve been fucking feeding Abigail your victims?” He hissed. 

The Ripper blinked, his heart skipping another beat. He’d only mentioned Abigail in rage, not the two of them. Hannibal felt light headed again, even with the knife aimed at his throat. 

“And you as well. Why are you only angry about the one?” He asked, unbearably curious. He needed the answer like his lungs needed oxygen. 

“Shut up!” He barked. “If you feed her this shit again I’ll fucking burn down your house with you in it, do you understand?” 

The gears shifted in his mind and he blinked slowly, setting down his meal. There was something more than just outrage at the cannibalism under Will’s wrath. “Will.” He said calmly, meeting his eyes as if the knife wasn’t a few inches from him. “I will gladly comply with your request, but I do have to ask… When did Abigail consume human meat before this?”

Will lunged for him, as Hannibal expected him too, but it was easy to smack Will’s hand away, only receiving a nick to his throat as he stood up and moved back a few steps, putting space between them, the table a bigger obstacle to overcome. 

He was disappointed to see Will’s bowl had fallen to the floor. 

“Shut. Up.” He whispered, voice deadly calm, death in his eyes once more. 

Hannibal lifted up his hands in surrender, seeing only one way out of this, one more attempt to stop the game from ending. “I was fed my little sister when I was much younger.”

Will was visibly thrown off kilter at that. “Excuse me?”

“After our parents were murdered we ran to our father’s hunting lodge on the property and hid. Winters were always harsh in Lithuania and I was only eight but I tried to provide for her. She was five.” He kept his voice steady, watching as some of the tension left Will’s frame, eyes locked onto Hannibal. 

“Our rations were limited already when some defectors from the military found the cabin. I could not stop them from seeking shelter with us- they promised us protection and I believed that as full grown adults they’d be more apt to caring for my sister. They quickly ate what was left of our food…” His voice didn’t waver but a tear slipped down his cheek as he voiced the story he had never told anyone. 

Will set down the knife, shaking his head. 

“Two of the men took me hunting with them, saying they had found deer tracks. When we returned-“ 

“Please stop…” Will whispered, a matching tear falling down his cheek, still meeting his eyes, his empathy forcing him to see, making him  _ know  _ Hannibal. 

He didn’t stop. Couldn’t, now that he’d begun. “The rest of the men said they’d found a rabbit and had made stew. I asked where my sister was and they told me another soldier had taken her out to scavenge. I was so hungry, Will. I had seconds.” He dropped to a whisper. “I can still taste it… that stew has haunted me every day since then.” 

Will shut his eyes, shaking his head again. 

“I found her blood and bones later that night, hidden. I ran.”

“Stop…” He whispered. Hannibal stepped around the table, over the spilled food, and stopped before Will. 

“... The  _ Stellar Sonata  _ was her favorite painting in the house.” He kept his voice low, reminiscing. “When I look at it, I hear her laugh. She was the most important person in my life and I lost her.” 

He lifted his hand and gently rested it on Will’s shoulder, earning a flinch, the man stepping back, his eyes opening again. More tears flowed. 

“Hannibal-“

“I have to thank you, Will. No one else knows this story.” He dropped his hand to his side, not wanting to startle him again. “It's your hands that are putting the painting back together. Through you I can have a piece of her back…” He smiled ruefully at Will. “And the fact that it’s you doing the work makes it all the more special to me. Please tell me you’ll finish it.”

Will took a couple of shaky steps back, putting space between them as he wiped at his eyes. “You made your own mold.” He said instead of answering. 

Hannibal took Will’s seat, humming tiredly. “I did say that before, didn’t I?” 

“You killed them. The men that killed your sister.”

“I did. I hunted them all down, one by one when I was older.”

“And now you just kill whoever you want?”

“The rude, specifically. I find bad manners to be… unspeakably ugly, a blight on this already disgusting world.”

Will let out a shaky laugh. “Was I on the menu, when we first met?”

He hummed. “That’s the thing, Will. You should have been, but instead I found you interesting instead of rude. You seem to be an exception to me in more ways than one.” 

Will crossed his arms, taking a fortifying breath. “I’m going to ask you to leave, now. I have a body I need to dispose of and some tiles to regrout.” He looked down at Matthew. 

“It was my mess, please allow me to clean it up for you.” He offered gently. 

Will shot a glance at him. “I don’t trust you not to plant evidence.”

“I’ve only just found you, Will. I won’t allow anyone to get in the way, especially not the police or Jack.” He said seriously. “Allow me to dress him as a Ripper display. They’ll perceive it as an attack on Frederick Chilton for announcing Abel Gideon as the Ripper and they can go around chasing their tails in confusion.”

“The tacks are pretty incriminating, Hannibal.” Will rolled his eyes, not liking the plan. 

“Let me deal with that. The tack punctures can be covered with bigger holes and spread across the body to hide the original spray. Please allow me to begin to make up for my arrogance. I will not bring anyone else to your door.” 

Will eyed him, considering. 

Hannibal stood up again, no mask, just himself for the first time in front of someone he did not intend on making a victim. 

“... Use the back exit.” Will turned and walked away, heading to his office. He shut the door behind him, the latch clicking with finality. 

Hannibal cleaned up the spilled food, sad about the waste, before tossing everything into a large trash bag in the studio. Once he was satisfied by the food cleanup he pulled his car around to the back, carefully lined his trunk with tarp, and found the back door. Inside was a small break area he had not yet seen, complete with a coffee pot, a fridge, and multiple hot plates. 

He headed back into the studio, grabbed a pair of black nylon gloves, and quickly broke Matthew’s legs before he carried him out back and shoved him into the trunk. When he returned inside he removed his ruined suit jacket and tossed it into the trash bag, lifting it up and tying it off before he returned the bag to his car with the intention to burn away the rest of the evidence. 

When he came back he was welcomed by the sight of Will using industrial grade solvents to remove the blood stain. The handsome man had changed into a fresh pair of clothes, the stained garments nowhere to be seen. He shot him a glance, apparently recovered from his empathy episode. 

“You get one chance to prove yourself to me, Hannibal. Don’t fuck it up.” 

He smiled softly in return. “I will do my best not to disappoint you, Will. I want nothing more than to be allowed the opportunity to stand by your side.” In reality helping clean up a murder scene had felt strangely… domestic for him. It hinted at a beautiful future, one where Will returned his affections.

~~~~~~

A few days later the body of Matthew Brown was put on display in a local park. Hundreds of quarter sized holes had been cut into him, making him part of the water feature in the main water fountain, the flow of water carefully directed through many of the holes. His eyes had been removed and his tongue had been pulled down through the open slit of his throat, left to dangle. 

The holes that did not have water flowing through them had purple hyacinth, pink carnations, pink roses, and lily-of-the-valley lovingly woven into the skin, keeping them anchored to their host. 

Jack ripped his hat off of his head and threw it to the ground at the sight of the intern. “Get Chilton and Lecter on the phone. Now!” He barked to his team, cursing angrily. 

The first sounder was out and the clock for the next two victims was ticking down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least Matthew was good for something, right? 
> 
> For the record I googled flowers that mean sorry when I chose the selection of Matt’s greenery. 
> 
> Purple Hyacinth= Please Forgive me  
Pink Carnations= I’ll never forget you  
(Dark) Pink Roses= Thankfulness  
Lily-of-the-Valley= Humility, a return of happiness  
Because Hannibal is grossly sentimental, and best expresses himself through corpses. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for your comments ♥️ it absolutely makes my day when I get to read y’alls reactions!


	10. Castle (Castle Fairy Tale)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal leads the FBI astray and Will has to socialize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to those who celebrate and Happy Hump Day to those that don’t~ 
> 
> There’s a POV shift towards the end of the chapter~

Hannibal arrived on the scene a little after six in the morning, sipping coffee from his thermos. He offered Jack a second thermos, which the agent accepted graciously. “Good morning Doctor, thanks for making it out on such short notice.” 

“Of course Jack, I understand you believe this to be the product of the Ripper?” He looked over and frowned as he “recognized” Matthew Brown. “Oh my… that’s Chilton’s intern, isn’t it?” He spoke solemnly, playing his role carefully. 

Jack’s lips thinned into a flat line. “It is. Matthew Brown was found just before five by a morning jogger. Chilton is on his way. What do you make of this?” 

He took in a breath and approached the scene, careful not to intrude upon the agents hard at work gathering evidence. He circled the body carefully, admiring his own work before he pulled out his phone and returned to Jack. 

“I recognize the flowers, let me see if I can’t translate them for us.” 

The head of the BAU raised a brow in confusion. “Translate?”

“Flowers have meaning, Jack. I dabbled in botany when I was in medical school but I’m afraid I only remember the names.” He hummed, pretending like he didn’t have a garden in his memory palace filled with categorized flowers. 

“Here we are,” he showed Jack his screen and the botany website he’d found. It wasn’t really like him to mask his talents like this, but he figured he’d remove himself a bit more than normal for the sake of Will. 

“Hyacinth represent asking for forgiveness, the carnations a promise never to forget, pink roses show thankfulness, and lily-of-the-valley are meant to symbolize humility.” 

“And this all means?” Jack looked at him, not quite seeing the importance.

Hannibal let out a sigh. “I believe the Ripper has penned us a letter using the flowers. If this website is to be believed, then I would say that he is writing from the perspective of Mr. Brown. He is having the victim beg for forgiveness, promising to never forget the lesson he has learned in death, thankful to be turned into art by our culprit and thusly humbled.” It was easy to twist his letter to Will to suit his purposes. “It would seem this is a direct response to the news leak of Abel Gideon being labeled the Ripper.”

He wondered if Will would look up the flowers himself when he saw the news. 

Jack cursed and shook his head. “And the holes and Columbian necktie?”

“Lies flowed through him like water and his tongue was seemingly wagging when it shouldn’t have been. Perhaps the intern was easier to access than Chilton? I would hazard to say that Mr. Brown is being used as a stand in- and a warning.” 

“A warning about what?” Chilton demanded as he rushed forward, the color immediately draining from his face as he took in the sight of his student. “Lord…” he whispered, for once quiet in his fear. 

“I’m sorry you have to see this Dr. Chilton, but Hannibal thinks you may be at risk of becoming the next victim of the Ripper.”

Chilton gave a hard shake of his head, glaring at Jack. “But we announced that over a week ago! Jack, if it was the Ripper he would have done this much sooner! This has to be the work of a copycat!”

Hannibal barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. In truth, his interactions with Will had proven far more interesting than Chilton and Gideon. The accountant he’d originally planned on displaying as his first sounder was currently dismembered and stored in his freezer, with half of him already elevated into meals and the other half being stored for his dinner party. He couldn’t even blame himself on his slow reaction, not after witnessing Will. 

“He may have been taking the time to stalk Mr. Brown and learn his schedule before striking, Frederick.” Hannibal said carefully. “If this sounder has been inspired by proving Abel Gideon is not the Ripper than I fear for your safety.” 

The wild look in Chilton’s eyes proved to Hannibal that the man knew exactly what kind of danger he was in and that he hadn’t actually believed that Gideon was the Ripper. He hadn’t really had much faith in Chilton to begin with but surely he should have known better than to play with fire. 

The other psychiatrist turned on Jack. “You have to put me in protective custody! I’m going to need agents to watch my house and-“ 

Jack nodded along and rested a hand on Chilton’s shoulder. “I’m not letting this bastard get you too. We’ll get a security detail on you immediately.” He looked out and called for another agent, having him take Chilton aside for questioning. 

“... We need Will.” 

Hannibal did not tense, nor did he pause but he did allow himself a sigh. “Jack…”

“Don’t ‘Jack’ me.” He growled. “Will can put an end to all of this.” He gestured angrily at Matthew’s corpse before he stormed off to bark more orders. 

The psychiatrist turned and found one of Jack’s crew to give his statement before leaving the scene, knowing he’d been dismissed. He rather hoped Uncle Jack wouldn’t make an appearance… but the man was too stubborn for his own good. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abigail was back in the office on Monday and her face lit up when Hannibal walked in. “Hannibal! Good morning! You’re not on the schedule today?” She tilted her head but still looked happy to see him. “Did Will forget to pencil you in?”

The young woman looked refreshed, the two weeks off having done a lot of good for her it seemed. 

He smiled warmly and approached the desk, setting his bag down. “No, I’m making a surprise appearance today, honestly. Is he in?” 

Her brows came together apologetically. “He’s actually in a meeting right now with another client. They just started ten minutes ago so I can’t give you an estimate on time.” 

He hummed, a little disappointed but not surprised. “That is what I get for coming unannounced.” He unzipped the container and pulled out the red bowl he had specifically bought over the weekend for Abigail, handing her the one meal that contained actual chicken. “Regardless, you deserve your breakfast. How was your mother?”

Her smile grew warmer at that. “Thank you Hannibal, you really shouldn’t have.” She removed the lid and took a deep breath of the broth. “It smells heavenly, thank you. My mom was good, kind of worried, you know?” Her left elbow lifted in explanation. 

Hannibal pulled out his own serving- with his preferred meat- and began to eat with her. “Neither Will nor you called me about your stitches, they should be out by now, yes?” 

“Ah I didn’t want to bother you, I just stopped by a clinic near the academy and they took them out. My mom helped me cover it.” She added sheepishly. 

He shook his head, frowning. “Nonsense. Please come to me next time, Abigail. You’re not a bother.” She offered him a smile at that and he decided to let her off the hook. “Did you show your mother around the city?”

He was _ very _ curious to know the rest of Abigail’s story, but he knew Will would not forgive him if he started digging into it without permission. He thought of Abigail covered in blood all those nights ago and wondered how accurate the story about her father committing suicide truly was. The scar on her neck certainly hinted at a more interesting tale. 

“Oh I have pictures!” She excitedly broke his train of thought, digging for her cell in her purse tucked under the desk. He was amused to see she had a little bobble attached to the case, a small dog by the look of it, and he briefly wondered if it was a gift from Will. 

He leaned over and let her flip through the photos of her mother and her in various places- the mall, a few restaurants, the academy, a museum- and listened to the girl tell him about the visit. 

“I would say you were an excellent host, Abigail, I’m sure she had a lovely time. I imagine she misses you dearly.” He smiled warmly. 

The young woman looked a little wistful then. “Yeah, I kinda miss her too, you know? I’m an only child so…” she shrugged her shoulders. “She at least moved closer to family after dad died so she’s not all alone over there.” 

“She’s lucky to have you as a daughter.” He hummed, finding himself meaning the praise. 

“Thanks Hannibal…” Her words were soft but heartfelt. She cleared her throat and shifted the conversation away from the sensitive subject. 

“Will gave me an invite for a dinner party?”

The older man felt his head lift a little in pride before his brain caught up with her words. He smoothly played it off by swallowing a bite of black chicken soup. 

“Yes, I do hope you’ll be able to make it.” He offered her another smile, his brain shifting gears as he considered his options. If Abigail was indeed coming to the party then he would have to adjust the menu and come up with a subtle way to keep her from eating the usual long pig served at his events. It would rather defeat the purpose if he got rid of his trophies all together…

“Do I have to wear a three piece suit?”

He offered a gentle laugh. “No, Abigail, though I imagine you would be able to pull it off, you’re welcome to come in something less formal, perhaps slacks or a dress. I would not want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“Will’s anticipating some snobby people.” She hummed. 

“Abigail, if anyone makes you or Will uncomfortable please do let me know and I will remove them from any future guest lists.” And add them to a menu- “I will not allow anyone to be rude to either of you.” 

The studio door opened and an unforgettable laugh wafted in as a familiar face exited the work space. A soft gasp preceded the click of heels as the woman approached the psychiatrist. 

“Hannibal! There you are, I was beginning to think you had died!” Ms. Komeda lifted her hand and he obligingly kissed the back of it. 

“Ms. Komeda, please forgive me, I’ve been terribly busy.” 

“Too busy for the opera? And the Braxton’s charity fundraiser?” 

He inclined his head, properly chastised. “Forgive me, I’m sorry my absence has been noticed. Hopefully that will be remedied after my dinner party? I believe I received your letter marking you as attending.” 

She smiled wider at him, smirking like a satisfied feline. “I might be able to let it slip, if you reserve me an extra serving of dessert.” 

“A fair exchange for forgiveness.” He chuckled, his eyes lifting to Will, who was watching the exchange, leaning against the doorframe. “I do believe I owe you more for recommending Will’s services to me. His skills are unmatched, just as you said.” 

She grinned and turned to look at him as well, assessing. “Isn’t he just a gem? I’ve been bragging about you to all my associates, Mr. Graham.”

He nodded his head, looking mildly uncomfortable, never the most social one in a room. “Thank you, Ms. Komeda, the business is appreciated.” 

“And deserved, dear boy! And now you’ve roped in Hannibal as well!” She laughed, as blunt as always. “You’ll go far with his words of praise, I can promise you that.” 

Will looked even more uncomfortable. Hannibal found it endearing. Hand the man a knife and he was the most powerful predator in the room, but force him to socialize and he’d rather dig himself a grave. 

Hannibal modestly cleared his throat, bringing the attention back to himself. He made the decision _ not _ to mention he’d invited Will as well, knowing it would bring more unwanted attention and though it would amuse him to no end, it certainly wouldn’t appease Will. There was always later. 

“If you will excuse me, madam, I do have some things to discuss with our talented restorer. It was a pleasure to see you, as always, and I look forward to seeing you again soon.” He kissed her hand again and she nodded regally. 

“Of course. I’ll be looking forward to my extra desserts Hannibal. Au revoir.” She pulled a pair of sunglasses from her purse and waved as she headed to the front door. 

When it was fully closed Will addressed him, looking annoyed. “Back so soon?” 

“I do apologize for the intrusion, Will, but I was hoping I could see the Sonata today.” 

The younger man glanced at Abigail, who was watching them both intently. 

“Yeah.” The single word was sighed long sufferingly, and Hannibal watched his back as he retreated into the studio, door closing. 

“Did you guys… have a fight while I was gone?” Abigail asked hesitantly. “He seems mad?” 

Hannibal smiled at her again as he packed up his breakfast. “I’m afraid I said something to offend him during our last appointment. I’m working towards his forgiveness.” 

“If you’re honest with him I’m sure he’ll forgive you, just, you know, be genuine with him. He’ll see through any bullshit.” 

“Language, Abigail.” He teased as he headed to the studio, smiling. 

“I’m an adult!” She yelled as the door closed behind him. 

“What is she eating?” Will immediately questioned him. 

“Black chicken soup, with actual chicken.” He opened his pack and handed Will his bowl. “And this is black chicken soup made with a cowardly accountant.” 

He stared as if Hannibal had grown a second head. “... First, that’s a horrible joke. Second, you’re still going to feed _ me _people?” 

“You didn’t say I couldn’t.” He hummed, setting the bowl down in front of Will. “You also didn’t seem particularly disgusted by the revelation.” 

Will rubbed a hand down his face. “... I’m not dealing with you today.” He turned and fetched the Sonata off of the storage shelf and set it down. “Take a look and leave.”

Will retreated back to his heated vacuum table, appearing to be starting a new treatment on a painting. Hannibal smiled softly at his back before he walked over to the _ Stellar Sonata _and hummed his appreciation. 

Progress was slow, he knew, but it was still so satisfying to see the healing touch of Will creeping over the painting. It wasn’t even half done but he leaned in and marveled at the imperfections made invisible by those skilled hands. 

What a marvelous man. 

“_ Would _it bother you if I referred you to some of my associates?” 

Shoulders tensed but still he did not turn around. “You can’t buy me, Hannibal.” 

“I realize that. That’s why I haven’t offered to buy you a new studio.” _ Yet. _

“You’ve had your look, out.” Will waved him away, a threat in his voice. 

“As you wish, dearest Will. I hope you have a lovely day.” On his way out he smiled when he saw traces of green paint on the floor where Matthew Brown had laid, most of which had been cleaned up, no doubt to conceal the new grout that laid between the tiles. 

Hannibal left the bowl of chicken soup on the table, a smile stuck on his lips. 

Abigail looked up, blinking in surprise at how quick the meeting had been. “Wow, really mad, huh?” 

“I’m afraid what I said was rather… pig headed.” He hummed as he walked over and accepted her empty bowl. 

She gave him a pitying look. “He’s pretty stubborn…”

“He is, isn’t he?” The words were spoken fondly. 

“... Have you ever made gumbo?” 

The man blinked, tilting his head. “Once or twice. Is that a food Will is fond of?”

She nodded her head. “Louisiana comfort food, fish, coffee, whiskey.” The young woman counted off her fingers. 

Hannibal huffed, repressing a laugh. “Yes, the four major food groups.” His smile softened and he inclined his head to her. “Thank you for your advice, Abigail. With your help I may just be forgiven.” 

He heard the door open behind him and saw Abigail’s bright customer service smile falter, morphing into a grimace. 

He turned then, wondering who had spooked her, and let out a sigh. 

“Jack. I hope you’re here to inquire about the wonderful restoration services this studio provides.” His form blocked most of Abigail from view, shielding the girl from the agent’s consideration. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her move but he kept his eyes focused on Jack. 

Crawford’s frown was thunderous when he glared at his consultant. “Hannibal, I have a deep respect for you and what you do, but you have no idea what Will is capable of.”

Oh he had an idea. 

“Jack he does not want to be involved, please leave him be. I may not have seen his gift first hand but it sounds like it wasn’t good for him to be using it as frequently as he was. He has created a life for himself-“

Jack ignored him and took a step closer to the studio, apparently just picking a door and ignoring the two others in the room, which opened. 

Will looked righteous, like the Archangel Michael, in his anger, ready to smite down the unworthy. 

Hopefully he’d deem Hannibal worthy.

“Get out of my studio Jack. Don’t make me call the police.” 

Jack raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “The police? Really?”

“This is harassment.”

“Will, the Ripper is back.” Jack said slowly. 

“Bastard always comes back.” Will snapped, eyes trained on Jack. 

“Please Will, just look at the photos, we need something. He left no traceable evidence besides flowers that-“ 

“Sounds like it’s not my problem.”

“Will. People are-“

“Dying? Yeah, I know. People are always dying.”

Jack took in a deep breath. “You don’t want to save innocent lives?”

“No. I’m done with that. Get out.” 

Jack’s hands balled into fists and he pointed an angry finger at Will. “Then their murders are on your head.” He snapped, turning sharply on his heel and making his exit. 

Will then turned his glare to Hannibal, who returned the intense look with a smile. “I thought I told you to leave too.”

Hannibal lifted up his hands. “Forgive me, I was chatting with Abigail. I’ll take my leave. Please enjoy the soup, Will. Abigail.” He nodded towards the young woman and gathered up his things, his movements light and easy, despite Will’s murderous glare that tracked him to the door. 

Perhaps his lightness was _ because _ of Will’s glare. 

Will continued to stare until he and his assistant were finally alone and then he slumped against the doorframe, letting out a loud exhale. 

Abigail got up and hugged him. “You okay?”

He returned the hug with one arm, appreciating the contact. “Yeah I’m fine. Dealing with them back to back is…” He scrubbed a hand down his face before he released the girl and headed back into the studio. 

Abigail glanced over and saw the open container of soup Will had started to eat and bit back a smile as she followed him inside and grabbed a stool. “What did Hannibal say to make you mad?”

“He told you I was mad?” He went to check on his heated vacuum table, the painting he’d been working on over the weekend finally done with its heat and humidity treatment. 

“No, I could tell you were mad at him and asked what was up.” 

“And he said he said something?”

“He said he said something ‘pig-headed’.” She attempted to imitate his European accent and definitely missed the mark. 

Will let out a sigh, hanging his head low for a moment while he considered his options, then turned around and faced her and her gentle smile. “Abigail. He’s the Chesapeake Ripper. Please try not to be alone with him.”

Her eyes grew comically wide. “_ Hannibal _? Are you sure?” 

She clearly was thinking about the refined socialite that she’d always seen and not the monster just under the mask. 

“He’s the one.” 

She blinked. “And you haven’t told agent Crawford?”

“He knows about me too.”

“And you haven’t killed each other?” She asked hesitantly. 

“He sent someone to kill me while you were out last week.”

The poor girl visibly flinched, “Will…”

“He apparently wanted to see what I would do and now he’s… _ ecstatic _to know what I’m capable of.”

The sweet girl blinked, tilting her head. “He’s happy that you’re like him?”

“I’m not like him, Abigail.” He grumbled, finally approaching her and sitting down at the same table. 

“You both kill people Will. And normally he’d be the type of person you take care of quietly.” She reasoned, pinning him with an intense look. “So why haven’t you?”

He shrugged a shoulder quietly, not liking where this was going. 

Abigail nodded her head slowly. “Okay. I mean, this is going to sound crazy, I know, but maybe you should give him a shot?” 

“Abi-“

“You’re both killers but y’all haven’t tried to kill each other? Come on Will, I know you better than that. He’d be able to understand you in a way a lot of people… can’t.” She reasoned. 

“He kills _ innocent _ people, Abi. He told me he kills the _ rude _, he’s insane.” 

“And you kill murderers and bad people, I get it, but you’re not exactly a saint either. Maybe you can ask him to change his preferred pool?” She offered. 

Will covered his face with his hands. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

“Will. My dad was a serial killer. You’re a serial killer who kills serial killers. We were never going to be normal… I think Hannibal really _ likes _you… and if you like him too I can’t blame you.” 

“You’re going to tell me to be friends with the Chesapeake Ripper?”

“I’m going to tell you to be happy.” She lightly kicked him under the table. “You could use a friend.”

“And if this goes south and we kill each other?” He shot back. 

She kicked him again. “Then you better win, Will.” Abigail gave an easy shrug. 

“I feel like you should be more concerned.”

“He tried to get that FBI agent to leave you alone just now, Will.” 

Will paused to consider that, staying quiet. 

“Have you guys talked about me?”

Will did not look at the bowl of food sitting open on the table. “He’s agreed you’re off limits.”

“Comforting.” She rolled her eyes. “Hear him out, Will. Who knows, maybe something good will come out of it. At least for awhile you’ll have a personal chef.” She winked. 

He couldn’t stop his grimace as he laid his head on the table. “You’re the worst. Is he paying you to say all of this?”

“Nope! But if you decide to make nice, let him know it was my idea.”

“You’re just as bad as he is.”

“Maybe that’s why you like him.” 

“Out.” He groaned against the table, deciding he was rather _ done _with people today. 

“I’m rooting for you tiger!” She laughed as she got up and headed back to her post. “Make sure I’m the best woman at the weddi-“

“_ Out!” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for your eyes ♥️


	11. Creation of the World (III)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has an interesting day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post this on Saturday... but I was too happy with it so uh Happy *googles national holidays* Boxing Day? Yeah we’ll go with that.

Tuesday had another person arriving at Will’s doors and he was really missing the days when he was a recluse that people only came to talk to when they needed a painting restored. 

He definitely blamed Hannibal for the change. 

“Hey Will, there’s someone here to see you?” Abigail called, poking her head into the studio as he hammered away at a canvas and stretcher. 

The man sighed and set down his work, flexing his hands. “Customer or?”

“Hey Will, it’s good to see you.” Alana Bloom stepped into view behind his assistant, a shy smile on her lips as she gave a small wave. 

He blinked. “Alana? Shit it’s been a few years. How’ve you been?” He walked over to the door and Abigail moved out of the way, looking between them curiously. 

Neither moved to hug the other- that would have been horribly awkward and he appreciated her respect of his space. 

“I’ve been… good. You know, just, uh, business as usual.” He avoided her eyes as he usually did with people. Alana’s eyes were too expressive- unlike a certain cannibal’s. 

She smiled warmly at him. “Well you’re certainly looking good. Very… healthy. I’m so glad to see you’ve made a name for yourself- away from profiling.” 

Will cleared his throat and gestured her in. “Do you want a tour? It’s a pretty short tour.”

He caught Abigail rolling her eyes at him and his lack of game before the young woman turned and returned to her desk. Traitor. 

Alana smiled as if she were charmed and nodded, stepping closer. “Would you mind?”

He shook his head and gave her the walk around his studio, explaining his heated vacuum table, the paints, giving the usual spiel about restoration. 

She took the time to look at the painting he currently had out on his table, surrounded by bottles of different solvents, blinking in confusion. “Are you… removing her face?”

The painting was a Victorian era portrait of some unnamed rich noblewoman and he was indeed in the process of removing her face. 

“Uh, so funny story about this painting. When I was removing the top layer of grime I realized that some hundred years ago someone retouched her entire face. My client agreed to let me have the painting X-rayed-“

“You  _ X-rayed  _ a painting?” She asked in disbelief.

He let out a chuckle and nodded. “Yeah, it reveals the under layers of paint, see?” He walked over to the back shelf and opened a folder to show her the black and white image. 

“Someone went in and painted over the original. They made her daintier and took away a lot of the personality in the face.” He traced over the woman’s original jawline. “The real portrait has been hidden this entire time. My client has given me permission to bring her back to the forefront.”

“Kinda reminds me of you.” She smiled softly but he only sighed in response. 

“Alana…” 

“Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to.” She lifted up her hands in surrender. “That’s incredible though. She’s lucky you noticed her under there.”

The painting had practically screamed at him when he had sat down with it originally. The dress was meant to be there but the face and hands had  _ not  _ been apart of the original design. It settled something in him- the artist’s emotions pressing on his mind- to finally bring the true beauty to light. 

“Do you have the time to catch up a little? I actually came out here on my lunch break. It really has been too long Will. I’m sorry about all the… activity that’s been happening lately.” She grimaced slightly and he knew she was referring to Jack. 

“Yeah I got a minute. Why don’t you grab a seat at an open table and I’ll make us some coffee?”

The woman visibly relaxed and nodded, going to grab a seat while Will went to brew them some coffee in the back room. 

He fidgeted while he waited for the pot to fill, unable to shake the awkward feelings settling over him. 

He’d had feelings for Alana before he left the FBI. She’d known and had rejected him because of his lack of stability- which was completely fair considering the meltdown he’d had not long after. Now she was here, four years and some months later, and he could tell she was appreciating his newfound stability. 

If only there was some way to tell her he’d found his stability through killing people. 

That  _ probably _ wouldn’t go over well. 

Will sighed and filled up two mugs, grabbed some creamer and sugar, then carefully balanced everything in his arms as he returned to the main room. 

“Will!” She laughed, immediately rushing over to him to take a hot mug from his hand. “You should have called for help!” 

“I had it handled!” He laughed back, setting the other things down. “I didn’t drop anything.” He reminded her. 

“You’re ridiculous.” She chuckled. 

“You know Abigail says the same thing.” He chuckled, shaking his head as she rejoined him at the table. 

“Your receptionist? She seems very sweet.” The psychiatrist smiled and there was a hint of pity there that made Will want to groan in exasperation. He held it in, sipping his black coffee instead. His Abigail didn’t need pity. She was a survivor.

“Yeah, she’s great.” 

Alana stirred some creamer and sugar into her cup and hummed. “So, what happened to you? After you left? I heard you went out of state?”

He let out a heavy sigh and nodded. “Yep. After I quit, I decided I needed to do some soul searching so I took out my retirement-“

Alana’s lips thinned ever so slightly, tipping him off to her mostly concealed disapproval since he still hadn’t met her eyes. He continued even if he was mildly annoyed. 

Can’t a mentally unstable man make some reckless choices to find himself again without being judged?

Will remembered the first time he killed a man and took a long sip of his coffee.  _ Nevermind. _

“I started traveling, visiting different states and just… well, searched for  _ me,  _ I guess. I ended up in Minnesota and found what I was looking for.”

She blinked and nodded her head encouragingly. “What did you find?” 

“A museum I wandered into was having an exhibit on the conservation of paintings…” he shrugged his shoulder, looking down into his coffee. “Something about it pulled me in, you know? I ended up talking with the museum’s conservationist and after a few hours of that I found myself searching for art schools.” He laughed, shaking his head before he rested his face in one of his palms. “I felt like such a fucking idiot when I did that. I was the oldest person in all of my art history classes  _ and  _ I’d already had my masters in forensic science.”

At least he’d finally paid back his new student loans thanks to a few solid commissions. 

“You proved an old dog can learn new tricks.” She corrected him warmly. 

He shook his head, humming fondly. “I finished my degree- the school actually let me transfer my credits for the basic courses and I took summer classes to speed things up. But I managed to finish early, interned at that museum and got enough experience to return home and open my first tiny shop.”

“First?” She blinked. 

“Yeah, I got enough business to hire my assistant and we moved into this place about three months ago actually. It’s been… really great. This space is everything I could have wanted.” Ms. Komeda finding him had probably been the best thing that had happened to  _ Graham’s Restorations _ . It was thanks to her commissions and referrals that business had started to pick up after the first year. 

Even if she’d also led a cannibal through his doors. 

Alana looked so warm, genuinely happy for him. It was nice, though still felt a little to… patronizing for his taste. He let it go. 

“We’d heard you’d come back and opened a shop but I don’t think any of us knew the journey you went on to get here. I’m happy for you, Will, I really am.”

“Thanks Alana.” He awkwardly sipped his coffee, looking up when Abigail opened the door and came in. 

“Uh, boss? You got a delivery.” 

Will  _ heard  _ the smile in her voice before he turned to look at her, his eyes widening at the  _ goddamn  _ gift basket in her hands. 

“What the hell is that?” 

She walked over and set it down next to him. “Dunno, a delivery guy just dropped it off.” Her smile was too big, too smug. 

He looked down at the cellophane wrapped basket- a rather beautiful thing made of woven dark wood that was  _ definitely  _ not purchased at a bog standard grocery store- that was filled with blood red ribbon. Nestled in the ribbons was a bottle of whiskey that very likely cost more than his monthly rent, two bags of expensive gourmet coffee, and a package of sausage tied together with a ribbon and a tag with  _ Winston And Others  _ scrawled lovingly in cursive font. A single flower Will couldn’t identify was tied to the whiskey bottle’s neck along with a small, folded note. 

Will groaned and covered his face with his hands. “This  _ fucking asshole. _ ” 

“Hey if you don’t want the whiskey I’ll definitely take it.” Abigail laughed.

“That’s it, I’m firing you.” He grumbled, glancing at his guest, who looked both surprised and amused. 

“Secret admirer, Will?”

“Not so secret, just annoying.” For fucks sake, Hannibal had literally been in the shop the day before. 

“We’re keeping the coffee, right? Tell me we’re keeping the coffee.” Traitor. 

He rested his head on the table. He really needed to deal with this, and soon. Will paused and lifted his head again. “What did you get?” He asked Abigail, suspicious. 

She looked away innocently. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Bullshit.”

She just shrugged her shoulders, made a noncommittal noise and backed out of the studio. 

“Remember this moment the next time you ask for a raise!” He called after her retreating form. 

“Can’t hear you!” She called before the door shut. 

Alana laughed. “You two are really closed, huh?”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah, we are.” 

The woman shook her head, smiling. “It’s been great catching up Will, but I should probably head back to work. Would you be interested in meeting up sometime and catching up more?” 

He blinked before he returned the smile. “Yeah, I’d like that. How about Friday? This week is kind of busy.” He explained. 

Alana gathered her stuff, nodding. “Friday works for me, say six o’clock?”

“Six it is.” He walked her out after they exchanged numbers, offering an awkward smile. “It was great seeing you, Alana.” 

“You too, Will. It was nice meeting you Abigail.” She waved at the smiling receptionist before she turned and headed out. 

When she was gone he turned on his employee and stalked closer to her. “Out with it.” 

She sighed loudly before she produced a significantly smaller basket from underneath the desk. “Some gift cards, a flower, and a box of assorted chocolate I would never be able to afford.

“Do I want to know how much is on the gift cards?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“No.” She answered flatly. 

“Right.” He sighed, waving at her dismissively as he returned to his studio- his sanctuary away from the madness of the world and traitorous assistants. 

Will went back to work for about an hour before the curiosity finally got to him. 

He opened the transparent wrappings and carefully untied the note that was apparently for him. 

He was surprised to see it wasn’t a note at all, instead it was a drawing of himself. The image had been rendered lovingly in charcoal, a Will focused intently on something- presumably a painting. 

He let out a soft breath and leaned back against a table, taking in the incredibly detailed portrait.

A soft touch did not smudge the lines and Will couldn’t explain why he was relieved that Hannibal had had the forethought to spray the drawing with a fixative, making it permanent. 

Will blinked and shook his head, carefully refolding the page and setting it back in the ribbons. 

With a sigh he returned to his paintings, turning ideas carefully in his head for the rest of the day. 

~~~~~

Hannibal looked up when he heard a knock at the door and tilted his head. He wasn’t expecting anyone. The man quickly washed his hands and was still drying them as he checked the door. 

His heart fluttered. 

“Will.” He greeted warmly, beyond happy at the interruption. “Did you follow me home?” He was very certain he’d never mentioned his address to the man or his assistant and the thought of Will stalking him sent a pang of  _ something _ through his chest. Leave it to his ex-profiler to know how to tail a car.

Will opened his lovely mouth to reply before pausing, a frown creasing his brow. “Wait, are you… is that  _ gumbo _ I smell?” The intense smell had wafted out the door, causing a sheepish smile to slip onto the Ripper’s face. 

“Ah. How embarrassing, you’ve caught me experimenting with recipes. Perhaps you’d like to come in and help me determine which one is the most authentic tasting?” A pause. “Unless, of course, you’re here on business?” He tilted his head, openly inviting a fight with his resteror. 

He glanced over the man’s shoulder and noted Will’s car parked in the driveway- so probably not here to kill him then. 

Will shook his head, letting out a heavy sigh. 

“Please come in out of the cold, at least.” Hannibal chuckled and opened the door wider.

The other man obliged the request and shrugged off his jacket, hanging it up on the coat rack next to the door as Hannibal shut the door behind him. 

“I’ve been thinking about how I’d retaliate against you.” Will began, immediately gaining his full attention. 

“Oh? What have you decided?” 

Will raised an eyebrow at him, definitely picking up on the psychiatrist’s excitement, though he couldn’t really help himself. He’d been  _ dying  _ to know what Will would come up with. 

The man shook his head again, looking exasperated. “See, this,  _ this  _ is the problem. You’d enjoy anything I pulled because it meant you were getting a reaction. Am I right?”

Hannibal felt his lips twitch up. “An astute observation.”

Blue eyes rolled to the ceiling. “The only thing that would piss you off would be if I reported you to Jack- but then I’d be in danger too and I imagine things would only escalate from there.” 

“Undoubtedly.” He hummed. 

“So.” Will unbuttoned his flannel shirt cuffs, rolling up his sleeves. “I’ve decided I’m going to do something that’ll make  _ me  _ feel better.” 

“Oh?” Hannibal was breathless first because of his excitement and then quite literally as Will’s fist connected with his stomach without mercy. 

He doubled over, stumbling back a couple of steps. “Will?”

“Dukes up Hannibal.” The beautiful man swung again, but he’d lost the element of surprise. Hannibal moved through his pain with a practiced ease as he ducked under Will’s fist and returned a blow against his ribs, earning a grunt from his lovely companion, forcing him back a few steps. 

Will didn’t drop his guard though, fists still up. 

“A little crude, don’t you think?” Hannibal chuckled, feeling very much alive, adrenaline pumping in his veins. 

“I’m glad you think so, because I hate that perfect mask of yours.” Will moved in, swooping under Hannibal’s fist, getting into close enough quarters to land a punch square against his jaw. 

The larger man growled and drove another blow against the same spot he’d hit earlier, abusing already bruised ribs. 

They continued to exchange blows- Will landing a cruel hit to Hannibal’s cheekbones, which Hannibal paid him back for by landing a punch to the shoulder that Will had been favoring the entire fight, presumably an old injury- until they were both sitting on the floor in Hannibal’s living room, panting, bloodied, and bruised. 

Eventually the older man looked over at Will, catching his gaze. “So… got that out of your system?” He flashed a crooked grin, enjoying the ache of his body. 

Will huffed a laugh, grimacing at the stress the exhale put on his ribs. “Ah, yeah… yeah I’m good.” 

“Wonderful.” Hannibal closed his eyes and rested his head against the parlor wall he was leaning against, unable to stop his smile. 

“... I knew you’d enjoy this too.” Will snorted. 

“I enjoyed it very much. I’m sorry if that ruins  _ your _ enjoyment.”

“Yeah, but have fun explaining to your dinner guests that shiner.” Will smirked. 

The cannibal paused, considering the words. “... Cruel boy.” 

“They’ll be more focused on your face than your food.” Despite the tiredness in his voice, Hannibal could also hear the pride and his smile widened. 

“Yes yes, very clever.” He didn’t have the heart to tell Will he considered his bruised face to be a badge of honor- his feisty killer’s mark temporarily branding him…

They looked at each other for a moment, taking in the other’s battered form before they both started laughing, Will’s trailing off in a groan. 

Hannibal smiled apologetically. They were just close enough that he could reach over and touch their hands together- so he did, gently touching his pinky to Will’s. 

He didn’t apologize out loud. They both knew he wouldn’t mean the words, even if he was disappointed Will’s lovely laugh was being cut short. 

They made eye contact again, taking each other in before Hannibal finally broke the silence. Will didn’t pull his hand away. 

“Why don’t you head to the kitchen and I’ll grab my first aid kit?” He murmured. 

Will flashed him a lopsided grin. “You’re gonna beat the shit out of me and then patch me up, doc?”

“I have to finish what I start, dear Will. Or in this case, what you started.” He carefully stood up and offered Will his hand, which he accepted after a moment of hesitation. 

“Through there.” He gently instructed before he went to the downstairs bathroom and gathered up some supplies. 

Will was shaking his head when he returned. 

“Yes?”

“Hannibal, just how  _ many  _ recipes are you testing out?” He looked rather incredulous. 

A significant number of his pots were currently dedicated to numerous varieties of gumbo. “A few.” He shrugged, playing it off as he ushered Will into a chair. 

“Hannibal… you’re a dork.”

“And you’re  _ rude  _ Will.” Maroon eyes fondly took in blue, lingering for a bit longer than necessary before he lifted Will’s hand and he carefully disinfected his bloody knuckles. 

“... The gumbo?”

“Abigail’s suggestion.”

“The various recipes?” 

Hannibal paused his administrations, simply looking at Will in answer. 

After a pause he nodded in understanding. “You wouldn’t serve a recipe you didn’t think was perfect.” 

A pleased smile slipped onto his face and he went back to those lovely knuckles. 

“... You don’t really express emotions on your face, Hannibal.”

“Oh?” He hummed, switching to Will’s other hand. 

“Even when your mask is down, all the emotion is in your eyes. Your expressions stay… small.” 

“An interesting observation Will. I have been told I have a rather flat affect. It feels less flat around you.” 

“What are we doing, Hannibal?”

“I am disinfecting your knuckles so that they do not-“ Will used his knee to bump Hannibal’s bruised stomach, cutting the man off as he let out a pained grunt. 

“You know exactly what I’m asking, you ass.” 

“Very well. The answer is in your hands, Will.” 

“My hands?” He raised an eyebrow. 

Hannibal nodded. “I would like a companion, an equal. I leave any further definition in your hands.” He glanced up to catch his gaze. “That is, if the jury is finally done deliberating?” 

Will paused, considering his answer. “Fine. You’re guilty.”

Hannibal huffed an amused laugh. “Guilty of being interesting?” 

“Guilty of being a persistent dick.” 

He couldn’t stop the smile that slipped onto his lips. “I’ll take that as a yes. May I see your side, please? I’d like to make sure your ribs are only bruised and not fractured.”

“I think you know damn well they aren’t fractured.” Will replied without any heat. He of course was correct, but Hannibal didn’t own up to it. 

The other man picked up the disinfectant and held his hand open for Hannibal’s own abused one. It was his turn to hesitate, always used to patching himself up, but he gave in, enjoying the warmth of Will. 

“... I hit your jaw pretty hard. Your teeth okay?” He asked, eyes focused on his work. 

“Yes Will, every tooth is accounted for.” 

The younger man nodded, then moved up to check Hannibal’s red cheekbone- it was definitely going to bloom into a nasty bruise. 

“Should I grab you some ice? Maybe a pack of peas?” He teased. 

Hannibal huffed, rolling his eyes. “Hilarious. I’ll take care of it… thank you.” 

Will nodded and used his left hand to reach for the kit, grimacing when his shoulder appeared to complain. 

“Ah, that was me. Hold on for a moment.” Hannibal got up and went to find a heating pad in his medical supply cabinet.

When he returned he found his partner examining the pill bottles tucked into the kit, his eyebrows raised. “Why do you have narcotics just lying around?”

Hannibal went to microwave the heat pad, humming. “They were not ‘just lying around’, they were in the first aid kit. If you ever need me to patch you up after a hunt you’ll be glad for them.”

“... I’m surprised you own a microwave.” Will changed the subject. 

“Yes, well I don’t use it to cook but it’s useful for things like this.” He stopped the machine before it dinged and grabbed the pad, wrapped it in a towel and gently pressed in to Will’s abused shoulder. “Old injury?”

He grimaced before he relaxed into the heat. “Got stabbed while I was an officer in New Orleans.”

Hannibal paused when Will pronounced the city name with just a touch of southern twang, savoring it. How unfortunate he hadn’t held onto more of his accent. 

“What?” Will glanced at him, the older man still standing behind him, holding the pack. 

“Officer, FBI special agent, professor, and restorer. You’ve worn many hats, Will.” He offered him a small smile. “Did you go to physical therapy for the shoulder.” 

The man snorted, but let him continue to hold the pack. “Yeah… for a couple of weeks.”

Hannibal tutted his disapproval, noting Will roll his eyes in response. “If it still bothers you I can recommend some stretches.”

“It’s usually fine… when people aren’t punching it.”

The older man smiled fondly at him. “Ah how careless of me.” He leaned down, closer to Will’s neck and took in a deep breath, savoring the smell of fresh sweat mixed with adrenaline and Will’s natural scent. His horrible aftershave lingered, still, but was faint enough he could almost ignore it. 

“Hannibal.”

“Hmm?” Will didn’t flinch away so he didn’t move, enjoying the closeness. 

“Why are you such a creep?”

“A good question, I’ve often theorized about the papers that would be written about me, should I ever be caught. Care to weigh in? You’re exceptionally qualified.”

Will shot him a fond look, finally turning around, moving to hold the heat pad himself, Hannibal’s hand dropping but he did not step back. 

“A pure narcissistic psychopath. Textbook.” He smirked, clearly trying to get a rise out of him. 

The man opened his mouth to retaliate, but his phone ringing cut him off. He hesitated, seriously considering the rude option of ignoring it in favor of chatting with Will, but his partner noticed the look on his face and nodded his head. “I’ll be here.”

Hannibal went and quickly grabbed a spoon, setting it before Will. “Please begin taste testing while I’m indisposed.” And then he returned to the living room where his phone was charging next to his tablet. 

He managed to grab the call on the last ring. “Jack?”

“Abel Gideon has escaped from the hospital.” The man growled. 

Hannibal blinked, finding himself not very concerned. “Any casualties?” 

Good for him. 

“Three orderlies, a nurse, and two guards. He faked a heart attack and managed to escape using the staff exit near the hospital wing.” 

He was rather disappointed he hadn’t heard Chilton’s name on the list. 

“We don’t know what he’s planning, Hannibal, but stay on high alert. We’re out looking for him and I’ll call you as soon as we know something.”

“Of course Jack, I will stay indoors with all the blinds drawn and entry points locked. Please let me know if you need me to come to you.”

“Thanks.” Jack abruptly hung up. 

Hannibal had never met Abel Gideon and subsequently wasn’t very concerned about him showing up at his door. 

With any luck Chilton would be dead in a few days,  _ surely  _ the former doctor had some bones to pick with the slimy psychiatrist. 

He returned to the kitchen and found Will tasting, just as he’d asked. Hannibal leaned against the entrance way for a moment, taking in the sight of Will existing in his favorite room of the house. It was a sight he could get used to. 

“What’s up?” Will asked as he dipped his spoon in another pot. 

“It was Uncle Jack calling to inform me that Abel Gideon just escaped from the hospital. He’s currently at large and they do not know what his plans are.”

He hummed around the spoon, eyes fluttering closed for a second. 

He was beautiful. 

Blue eyes opened again and he tapped the pot, a soft metallic sound resonating in the room. “This one is the best so far. Hannibal did you really mock up 14 different gumbo recipes?”

“Most use the same base ingredients so it wasn’t difficult.” 

“You used fish as your protein.” Will didn’t look at him, trying another pot. 

“I did.” 

The younger man appeared to be about to try the next one in the line up, then returned to his announced favorite and took another bite, savoring it. Hannibal walked up beside him and held his hand out for the spoon. Will didn’t hesitate to give it to him and he dipped it into the pot and tried it, closing his eyes to try to capture what Will was experiencing. 

“Reminds me of an old hole in the wall my dad and I used to go to.” Will explained quietly. “Little family owned place. Barely had three tables in the room...”

Hannibal opened his eyes and smiled back warmly. “I’m glad I’ve triggered such a pleasant memory. This one then.” 

He went to fetch a bowl before pausing. “Here or to go?” His voice was neutral, though he certainly had his preferred choice. 

“Oh uh… I guess it’s pretty late. I should head home. Feed the dogs.” Will cleared his throat. 

Hannibal nodded and went to fetch some travel bowls and made sure Will would have plenty to take with him. 

The younger man blinked as he watched his host putter around, pulling out a nice reusable shopping bag to store the bowls filled with gumbo. “... What about the rest?”

“I have larger containers and I’ll take the rest to a soup kitchen.” He hummed over his shoulder.

Will blinked in surprise, thrown. “How…  _ humanitarian  _ of you, Dr. Lecter.”

“Food should never be wasted.” Hannibal tutted, shooting him a smirk, which earned him an understanding nod. Will understood it was less about being good to other humans and more about maintaining his unique moral code. 

His empathy was intoxicating. 

“I hope you enjoy your gumbo. The leftovers should freeze well, though I’m happy to make it again anytime you’d like.” Hannibal gently pressed the bag into Will’s hands. “And be careful, there’s a murderer on the loose.” 

“Yeah,” he replied sarcastically as he accepted the food, “I’ve heard there’s three of them out there.” 

Hannibal walked him to the door, chuckling. “Good night, Will.”

“Night Hannibal… thanks for the food… and the gift basket.” 

“You’re more than welcome, I hope I’ll see you soon.”

“Probably.” He chuckled back and waved as he returned to his car.

Hannibal ached to stop him, to encourage him to at least spend the night due to the late hour, but he hadn’t survived as long as he had without having patience. 

He continued to stand outside until Will’s car drove out of sight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal deserved to get his butt whooped, if we’re all honest. 
> 
> As always, bless you for your time and attention 🙏🏼


	12. Adoration of the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal discuss expectations and Jack gets a Kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for your eyes ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ All your kind words really make my day!

Hannibal was rewarded for his patience two days later. He had just finished with his last patient and was sitting at his desk writing down his thoughts when a knock at the door interrupted him. He was relieved to see it was his Will. 

“Three days this week?” He hummed in greeting, moving out of the way so he could enter. “You spoil me, Will.”

“Evening Hannibal. Are you done for the day?” The younger man stepped into the office but made no move to sit or wander this time. 

“I am, I was just finishing my notes. Did you need me for something?” He tilted his head, a smile playing on his lips. 

Blue eyes lingered on the bruises that had blossomed on Hannibal’s cheekbone and jaw, admiring his work. “Your patients ask about those?”

“Every single one.” He chuckled and turned away from Will and towards his cabinet, producing a bottle of wine and two glasses. 

“What’s your story?” Will leaned against the wall next to the door, hands in his coat pockets, looking at home in Hannibal’s office. 

“A botched mugging attempt. The attempted thief thought he could strike me down but ran off after I hit him back. No money lost, I didn’t see his face, no reason to call the police.” He filled the glasses and brought Will his. He gently clinked them together in a toast before he went to lean against the front of his desk. 

“Not bad.” Will hummed, taking a drink. “Jack see it yet?”

“No, he seems rather busy with Gideon, I haven’t heard anything since he escaped from the hospital. Do you keep up with the news, Will?”

“Sometimes. Depends on what’s happening locally and if I’m in the mood to have someone else crawling in my head.” He hummed. 

Hannibal tilted his head. “Is that what it feels like?” 

“Yep. Pushes me to the side, lets whoever else take front stage. After awhile I realized it was easier to listen to the radio, hearing about it doesn’t trigger me as bad as seeing it. If there’s a new killer nearby I’ll take a listen and decide if it’s worth my time to get involved.” 

“And then you’ll go fishing.” Hannibal deduced, smiling warmly at him. “May I ask what got you started?”

Will hummed. “Maybe some other time. For now I actually came all the way to Baltimore to discuss  _ us _ .” 

“Of course, shall we work on the finer details of our relationship?” Hannibal smiled into his glass. 

“We’ve both agreed that Abigail and the Sonata are off the table.”

“Naturally.”

“What are you hoping to get out of this, Hannibal? And please, a more detailed answer than ‘it’s in your hands’. I want to know what your end game is.” 

Hannibal set his glass down and walked over to Will, stopping when there was an inch of space separating their shoes. Will did not cringe or sink away, merely raised a brow in response to the sudden proximity. 

“I fear I’ll be repeating myself.”

“Go on then Polly.”

Hannibal blinked, processing the joke before he let out a soft laugh. “I want  _ this  _ Will. I want your rudeness, your humor, your cruelty,  _ all  _ of it. I wish to know you and be known.” 

“To know a thing is to remove its ability to surprise. You’ll get bored.” Will snorted. 

“Will. Even if I knew you for a hundred years I’m confident you’d still surprise me.” He could feel the fond look on his face. 

“You think highly of me.”

“I think the  _ world  _ of you and I’d see you worshipped properly.”

Will blinked, not anticipating that. “Worshipped?”

“Mmm. Your heart’s desires at your feet, the world bowing to you like the god of death you are.” 

“You’ve only seen me kill once, Hannibal.” Will grumbled, becoming a little defensive, most likely due to being unfamiliar with such genuine praise. 

It was a travesty that Will hadn’t been properly worshiped before. 

“And it was the single most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. More beautiful than any of my tableaux, or work of art hanging in the Uffizi museum.”

“I’d never peg you for the supplication type.” The younger man huffed, a bit of bite in his tone. 

“I’d gladly get on my knees if it pleases you.” Hannibal purred, letting the double entendres hang between them. 

Blue eyes widened. 

Hannibal smiled and retreated back to his desk, letting Will have his space. “What is it you want from this, Will?” He turned the question back to him, letting the subject change. 

He blinked again, taking a deep breath to fortify himself. “... I…” A pause, considering his words.

Hannibal inhaled the bouquet of his wine before having a sip. 

“I’d like to be known,” he said slowly, “but can you get a reign on that worship talk? You’re weirding me out.”

“You’re not used to someone seeing you and liking what is there. When Alana spoke of you the first time to me, she described you as a skittish kitten on the verge of shattering…” Will’s hand twitched like it wanted to curl into a fist. “Perhaps once you were less sure of yourself? When you were working for Jack as his bloodhound, you were standing on sand, yes? But look at you now. You stand tall and firm on limestone that you’ve carved yourself.”

“If you call me a skittish kitten again…” Will warned.

“Will, I think I’ve made it clear I see you as the mongoose under the house, a hunter of snakes and vicious in your own right.” He tutted. “Do you not feel seen with me? Do I talk down to you when we are together?” 

His darling downed his glass of wine. “No, but you’re still an ass.”

“Because I will not twist anything for your comfort, I will tell you what I see. If my direct praise makes you uncomfortable then I will try to be more discreet, but only if you understand that I am genuine.” 

“... I understand.” Was finally mumbled, Will heading over to the cabinet to pour himself more wine. 

“Then I will attempt to ‘weird you out’ less often… though I do find your reactions entertaining.” Hannibal checked his watch. “Dearest Will, I do have a hunting trip planned tonight. Would you like to come along?” He didn’t bother hiding the hope in his voice. 

Will slowly made his way to Hannibal, putting an inch of space between them again as he came to stand before him. “I have a dinner date with Alana tomorrow, so, sorry, I’d like to get some sleep tonight.” He casually sipped his wine but his gaze was locked with Hannibal’s, gauging his reaction. 

Naturally the Ripper paused, assessing the information, considered the reasons. He wasn’t necessarily pleased that Alana was being chosen over him but he knew she was no threat to him. He finally hummed, savoring his wine. 

“She’ll never see you like I do, Will. You know that.” It wasn’t a question, merely a confirmation. “Will you keep an eye on the news for the next few days?”

Will tilted his head. “Planning something for me, are you?”

“I am. I hope you’ll like your gift.”

And his Will  _ did  _ look curious then, wondering what tableaux he’d receive. 

“I’ll keep an ear out.”

“Tattlecrime usually has photos.” Hannibal mused. 

Will’s face twisted in distaste at that, a curious response. “Freddie Lounds is an irritating gnat, Hannibal. I’m not giving her site another viewer.”

“Was she rude to you?”

“Very.”

Hannibal hummed. “I’ll remember that. I really should be heading home soon, however.” He stood at his full height, bringing the two of them even closer together. “Will you come over Saturday? I’d like to cook for you.” His voice was much softer, a murmur just for his Will. 

He watched blue eyes consider the offer. “... What time?”

“Wolf trap is a drive, yes? How about lunch? Say, one o’clock?” Hannibal reached out then and gently touched his hand to Will’s, pleased when the other man didn’t pull away. 

“One is fine.”

“Any special requests?” His voice remained soft but the question was definitely loaded. 

A long pause. Hannibal gently caressed the back of his hand. 

Finally, Will shook his head and he felt his heart lighten even more. Hannibal took Will’s hand and brought it up to his lips, gently kissing his scabbed over knuckles. “Then I will see you Saturday.” 

“Good night, Hannibal.” His voice just as soft. 

He gave the hand a gentle squeeze before he released it. “Sweet dreams, dear Will.” 

His darling hesitated, looking as if he wanted to add something but he eventually turned and headed towards the exit. 

Hannibal smiled and allowed him to leave, closing his eyes as he took in the smell of him, the faint scent lingering in the air. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning the Ripper was called out to his own tableau. He’d hoped to have a couple of days to refine his piece but he wanted Will to hear about it sooner so that his mind would be occupied while he was out with Alana. It was a piece he was proud of and he’d worked through the night, losing precious sleep, in order to bring his vision to life. 

Jack was livid as he arrived though the expression morphed into shock as he strolled up sipping on his civet coffee. “Jack, is it Gideon?” 

“No. It’s the Ripper. Bastard decided to attack us while we were distracted with another killer. What the hell happened to your face?” He growled. 

Hannibal sighed heavily, relieved that his bruises at least looked a few days old and were not as fresh as his kills. None of his victims had defensive wounds either, he was sure. “The night you called me about Gideon’s escape, a man tried to mug me outside of my office.”

“Did you report him?” He demanded. 

“No, he gave up after I managed to hit him back. He apparently thought I wasn’t worth the trouble after that. I hadn’t seen his face and my wallet stayed with me so I didn’t see the point in involving local law enforcement.” 

Jack looked at him suspiciously, like he was trying to look for holes in his alibi, before he sighed and rubbed his hand down his face. “This fucking week…”

“Earlier you said ‘us’ when describing the attack?” Hannibal changed the subject. 

Jack allowed it. “He killed an agent and his wife last night. Their damn  _ kid  _ called them in missing this morning when he woke up to an empty house.” 

The psychiatrist slowly nodded. “And they had been there the night before? Was the child harmed?”

Jack’s lips thinned. “... He was covered in bruises. He’s refusing to talk to anyone. He’s been taken back to Quantico for questioning.”

He looked over and observed the mass of agents filing in and out of the abandoned warehouse he’d chosen as a stage, amused at how they all looked liked ants following trails of pheromones around a picnic. 

“... It’s unfortunate that the child was orphaned.” He spoke solemnly. The child was truly better off. 

Agent Tanner had been a rather rude man, overly cocky and known for his crass behavior. Hannibal had been pleasantly surprised to find out his wife was equally as spiteful after watching them to gather information about their routine. When he’d witnessed both parents hitting their child on separate occasions their days had been numbered. 

He wasn’t normally the type to play vigilante but he knew Will would appreciate the sentiment. He wouldn’t be able to promise to forget the rude but he could adjust his usual victim pool to satisfy both of them on occasion. Luckily the man being an agent played into the narrative that the Ripper was biting back at the FBI. 

“Shall I take a look?” He turned his attention back to Jack, who nodded and went to question some of the forensic techs. 

“Ah Ms. Katz. What have you found?” Hannibal hummed as he entered the building, reminded that Will seemed fond of this agent. 

“Oh, hey doc. It’s… a mess to be honest.” She sighed, looking tired as she turned to face him, her eyes widening. “What happened?” She demanded. 

Will was going to love hearing about this during their lunch date. “A botched mugging attempt. I’m alright and he didn’t get my wallet.”

“Those look like they hurt.” She raised her eyebrows. 

“I returned the favor, I promise.” He sighed. “My attacker gave up when I proved to be more of a fight than he bargained for. Would you mind telling me about the victim?”

“Dr. Lecter if he’d had a knife…” she shook her head, sighing before she let it go. 

If Will had had a knife then the evening would have been even more entertaining. 

“Tanner was kind of an ass but he didn’t deserve to die, you know?” She shrugged her shoulders. 

Hannibal disagreed but nodded along regardless. 

The examiner shook off whatever emotion has begun to creep through her. “Sorry. This way.”

She led him in further and he was finally able to see his work again. 

The couple were knelt next to one another, the husband’s hands gently cradling his wife’s face as he planted a kiss on her cheek while her hands were wrapped around him in a loving embrace. It was most likely the sweetest kiss the two had ever shared. They were both wrapped in gold cloth, shimmering and illuminating. Little bittersweet blossoms were planted in her hair and the couple were knelt on a bed of various colors of camellia. 

“Klimt’s Kiss.” Hannibal hummed. 

Katz nodded. “Yeah, we got that far ourselves. Jack says you know flower names, any idea what these are?”

“If I’m not mistaken those are bittersweet blossoms in the woman’s hair and camellia that they’re kneeling on.” He was amused when he saw her pulling out her phone and looking up the meanings. 

“So… truth and…” she frowned and glanced up at the flowers. “Apparently have camellia different meanings depending on the color… but they’re mostly about love.” 

He hummed in answer. “Perhaps the Ripper is mocking them?” He walked closer to the tableau bending down. “Have you checked how they’re attached?”

“Metal rods driven into their knees to keep them in that position.” Jimmy Price joined his coworker, blinking when Hannibal turned back to face them. “Jesus! Hannibal!” 

“I’m fine.” He sighed again, “ Let’s focus on the case, please. Were any organs removed?” 

“They’re both missing their eyes, but he put cotton underneath the lids to keep them looking full. They both seem to be missing their hearts, the woman her kidneys, and…” he glanced at his dead coworker. “The man his thighs.”

“His  _ thighs _ ?” Hannibal repeated as though he were surprised.

“Cut down to the bone… you’re sure you’re fine?”

“Yes. Thank you for your concern.” 

“Tanner was a track star in college.” Katz mused dryly. “He never stopped talking about it….”

Silence choked the room for a moment. Hannibal was mostly sure that they were not necessarily sad to be rid of Agent Tanner but were more likely fearful that they would be next to fall victim to the Ripper’s blade. 

At least Jack’s immediate team had manners. 

“Thoughts, Hannibal?” Speak of the devil, Jack arrived, killing the silence with his powerful voice. 

“I think he’s mocking the agent and the FBI. He’s twisted the meaning behind a beloved painting with the message that he can get to anyone. He’s becoming bolder.” 

“He’s going to slip up if he keeps this up.” The head of the BAU growled, “When he does we’ll be right there waiting.”

They’d certainly be waiting quite awhile if that were the case. 

~~~~~~~

Hannibal wasn’t entirely surprised when he received a phone call at lunch. 

“Good afternoon Will, how are-“

“I didn’t like your gift.” He growled. 

Hannibal smiled and set down his tablet, taking his time to read news articles during his break. 

“I think you’re missing the full picture. It was meant for you, I wouldn’t antagonize you.” 

Silence greeted him on the other line. “... What were your parents like?” 

“My parents were very loving, while I had them. I don’t recall them ever raising their hand to either me or my sister.” He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes while he listened to the soft sound of Will breathing. 

He caught on. “... I see.”

“Lithuania is a difficult memory for me, but I’d love to show you France one day.” He purred, hearing the understanding in the younger man’s voice, pleased that he was being vague on the phone even if the line was most likely not recorded- a safe practice regardless. 

“... Only if I can show you New Orleans.”

His smile softened. “I would be honored, Will. Perhaps next time I can give you a more appropriate gift?”

“No… no I’m sorry. I did like it. Thank you.” His voice was hesitant but no less sincere. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed. Are we still on for tomorrow?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Excellent. I hope you have a lovely evening, Will.”

“You too. Goodbye Hannibal.”

“Goodbye, dear Will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a chill chapter to help ease into the next one- because oooooowwweeee is shit going to hit the fan next chapter. Y’all ready? >:3D


	13. Funeral Symphony (IV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey my name is Jiggityjams and I have a problem. God has cursed me for my hubris and my work is never done. Enjoy. 🎉

Friday arrived and Will was unsure how he felt about it as he lay in his bed, not quite able to force himself to get ready just yet. 

He threw an arm over his eyes. 

_ I’d gladly get on my knees if it pleases you.  _

Who said shit like that?

Worse- who said it and meant it? 

“This is going to end terribly.” He grumbled to the air. For some reason he was still excited. 

Who was worse, the one who said stupid shit or the other who loved to hear it?

Will finally sighed and got up, knowing his dogs needed breakfast. Winston lifted his head from his dog bed and his movement woke up the two others. 

He’d had five before his breakdown. Moving resulted in four of them finding other homes. They were good homes, he was sure, but he hadn’t had the heart to leave Winston, even if traveling had been a little hard on the loyal dog.

Somehow he was already back up to three. 

Maybe in a few years he could retire and open a sanctuary and shelter. 

After the slow start, Will managed to make it to work with Winston in tow, a bowl of gumbo packed for his lunch. Abigail looked  _ stressed _ , mumbling something about papers, bastard professors, and psych profiles as she brewed up a pot of Hannibal’s stupid expensive coffee. 

It was the best coffee he’d ever had. 

The rest of the day drifted by until lunch, when he heard about the Kiss that had been made for him over the radio, first hearing that parents had been killed and were survived by an orphan. 

After his unnecessarily pissed off phone call to the Ripper, he gave in and pulled open Tattlecrime on his phone and saw that the site had updated and reported on the corruption of the FBI, somehow- thanks to Hannibal, he was sure- already knowing that Steven Tanner, son of the agent that had been murdered by the Chesapeake Ripper, had been abused at home. 

Hannibal had killed child abusers as a gift to him.

He looked at the photos Lounds posted online as well, unable to deny his curiosity. The tableau had been  _ gorgeous, _ everything shimmering together so beautifully it gave Klimt a run for his money. 

Abigail came into his office then, and attempted to walk around him to peer over his shoulder. He moved his phone out of the way. “You don’t need to see this.”

“Is that Hannibal’s?” She asked carefully. 

“... Yeah.”

“Who did he kill?” 

“People who didn’t deserve to be parents.” He said darkly. 

She hummed and bumped his arm before she took her seat across from him, enjoying leftover pizza for lunch. “Sounds like he likes you.”

Will hummed. “Yeah.”

“Don’t sound too excited.” She teased. 

He bit his bottom lip and took another bite of his leftover gumbo. “We’re still working some stuff out.” He admitted. 

“You’re seeing Alana today, aren’t you?” She tilted her head. 

“I am.” 

She nodded her head slowly. “Alright… just be safe.”

He offered her a smile. “I’m fine, Abi. Promise.” 

He changed the subject and they talked about school for the rest of the hour. 

The rest of the day was a blur and, before he knew it, he was parking in front of the restaurant Alana had texted him about. 

He hadn’t quite decided why he was doing this, the most likely reason being to piss off Hannibal,- which had failed- followed closely by him trying to broaden his circle of friends- which was pending a failure status. 

Will took a fortifying breath before he cut the engine and headed inside, finding Alana had already grabbed them a table. 

“Hey Will. I’m sorry I didn’t text you I was already here, my phone died while I was driving.” She greeted him, looking drop dead gorgeous in a red cocktail dress. It was an interesting juxtaposition to his plaid button up and black slacks. He refused to feel underdressed. 

“Hey Alana. Don’t worry about it. You look… good.”

She smiled warmly at him. “So do you.”

“Have you gotten any more gifts from your admirer?” She hummed, picking up the menu. 

He followed her lead, glancing at his options. “Yeah. He sent me flowers.” And two corpses. Gotta love a romantic. 

She blinked. “ _ Oh _ , he?” She asked, trying not to sound too surprised and failing. 

“Yeah.” He flipped a page of his menu. “So you’re still working with Jack after all these years?” He changed the subject before she could “casually” attempt to ask about his sexuality. 

He wasn’t sure why it would matter given that Alana was bisexual, but he didn’t really feel like encouraging her curiousity. If she’d made assumptions about him that was her own fault. 

She cleared her throat. “Well I have always found my work with the FBI to be rewarding, even if Jack can be a bit…”

“Overbearing?” He finished for her. “I remember.”

The woman offered a soft laugh. “I’m sure you do. Listen… Will…”

Oh no, here it was, the moment he’d been dreading. 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t do more to help you, back then.” Her words were soft, genuine. 

He sighed. “Alana. This may sound crazy, but that breakdown was the best thing that ever happened to me. It made me realize that I was not okay and that I needed a change.” He offered a smile, eyes focused on her cheek. “Jack pushing me over the limit helped me realize what my limits  _ were _ . I’d still probably be working for the FBI if it hadn’t happened.” 

Flashes of his first hunt drifted through his mind, the killer’s thoughts deafening, drowning out  _ Will _ , the loss of himself in those dark woods- and then blood. So much blood… and then the silence. The blessed  _ silence _ . 

Will reached out and gently squeezed her hand. “I’m okay Alana. Better than okay.” 

Her smile was so relieved, having been carrying the guilt of his loss of sanity for the better part of four years.

She turned her hand and gently squeezed back. “I’m so glad to hear that, Will, even though I’m sorry for what it cost you to get here.”

“Just be happy with where I’m at now.” He shrugged in response, really wishing she’d stop thinking of him as being broken. 

_ ...A skittish kitten on the verge of shattering... _

Crazy? Probably, but definitely not broken. 

Her smile was warm again. “I’m very happy for you Will.” 

He let her hand go as the waiter arrived and took their order. 

“How did you meet Abigail?” She hummed when they were alone again. 

“I knew her dad back in college, way back to my first bachelors,” he lied smoothly. “I ran into her when I ended up in Massachusetts.” Will shrugged. “He offed himself right before I came to town and we ended up talking. Kinda been in the picture ever since.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “She’s a good kid. I wasn’t sure what to think when she called me and told me she wanted to come to Virginia to join the academy but I think she’ll do good things.” 

Alana shook her head. “That’s horrible. She shouldn’t have had to go through that. What made her want to go into the FBI?”

“She’s a tough one. Always keeps her head up.” He shrugged. “I think she just wants to help people.” 

“I see why you guys get along.” 

Will opened his mouth to respond but blinked when his phone rang. “Ah sorry, I-“

“No, go ahead, I understand.” She smiled awkwardly back. 

_ Hannibal  _ flashed across the screen and he shut his eyes.  _ Seriously?  _

“Yes?”

“ _ Hello, Will. Are you enjoying your date with Alana?” _

“I was, yes.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. 

_ “I just thought you’d like to know that Jack called me. Two of Abel Gideon’s former psychiatrists have been murdered… and our Dr. Bloom was another that saw him in prison.”  _ The bastard’s voice was too calm, too amused.  _ “Apparently he called her as well but she’s not answering.”  _

Will tensed his shoulders and carefully scanned the room. “Her phone died.” Alana sat up in front of him. 

_ “Ah, what poor timing. If you’d like I can text you the address of the safehouse Jack has informed me of. Or not. I haven’t told him you were with her.”  _

“Don’t be an ass.” 

_ “Forgive me. I just wanted to know I had your attention.”  _

Will smacked his face. “Yes. You do. If we could move this along.”

_ “Rude, Will. Very well, I just sent you the address. I’ll meet you there. I must say, she’s rather lucky to have you watching over her.” _

“You’re the worst.” He sighed, hanging up as his phone vibrated. 

“What was that about?” Alana demanded. 

“Hannibal just called. Abel Gideon is going after his former psychiatrists.” He quickly stood up. “I’m going to pay and then I’m driving you to the safehouse he just texted me. Get your stuff together.” He got up and flagged a waiter, fidgeting the entire time they swiped his card for food they’d never eaten, keeping Alana in his field of view at all times. 

When he returned, she stood up and they headed out. 

“Why did you tell Hannibal he was the worst?”

“Because he said he was excited to see my empathy in action.” He sighed, the lie coming easily. It was better than telling her her mentor found the thought of her dying amusing. 

She bristled protectively as he ushered her into the car, quickly checking the back was empty, before jumping into the driver's seat and taking off immediately. 

He used his thumb to unlock his phone- something that Abigail had helped him set up- and passed it to Alana. 

“I  _ told  _ him not to bring up your history as a profiler.”

“Yeah, well he did.” Will snorted. “He just texted us the address, can you pull up the GPS for me?” 

“On it.” She handed him back the phone and he followed the directions, grip knuckle white on the steering wheel. 

For some reason he felt like he was  _ lucky  _ Hannibal had given him the courtesy of calling. He wondered how long the man debated on sharing his gained information. 

“Do you remember Jack’s number?” Will asked. 

“Sorry, I don’t have it memorized…” 

That would be too easy. “Please call Hannibal and put it on speaker.”

He answered on the second ring and Will could hear the sound of the road and knew the older man was driving as well. 

_ “Will? Are you alright?” _ He asked, sounding properly concerned. He didn’t buy it for a second. 

“Yeah, we’re on our way to the safehouse. Do me a favor and let Jack know? I don’t have his number anymore.”

_ “Of course Will. What’s your estimated arrival time?” _

“It says we’re forty-five minutes away.” Alana spoke up, checking the GPS. 

_ “I’m thankful you chose tonight to have dinner with a former FBI special agent, Alana.”  _ He chuckled warmly in fake relief. 

“Yeah, me too.” Her voice was just as warm for another reason. 

Will held in his sigh again. “I’m an art restorer guys. I haven’t fired a gun in three years.” 

_ “Do you have a gun?” _

“One at home, I’m not in the habit of keeping it in the car.” 

_ “I’ll inform Jack. Alana, I assume you have the map? Can you please describe which road you’re coming from?” _

She gave him the details and he finally hummed in acceptance.  _ “Alright, please arrive safely. Will, if you need me do not hesitate to call me.” _

“I will.” Hesitate, that is. 

Hannibal huffed, apparently picking up his sarcasm but he ended the call instead of making a comment. 

“I swear to god I’m gonna kill that man one day.” Will grumbled. 

Alana blinked in surprise. “Why?”

“Because he’s the most pompous asshole I’ve ever met.”

“Most people who meet Hannibal like him.” She mused. 

“Yeah well, I don’t.” Their relationship was complicated. 

Silence filled the car, Alana lost in her thoughts. 

“The Ripper just attacked and now Gideon as well?” She softly changed the subject, fiddling with her purse. 

“We’re not going to let anything happen to you, Alana.” Well, he wasn’t. Hannibal’s motivations were up in the air. 

Would he let her die just because they went out for dinner?

…Yeah. Yeah he would, damn him. 

They were silent for the rest of the drive, Alana eventually turning on the radio to give her something to listen to. 

When they finally arrived at the safehouse, Will was stopped by an agent in a bulletproof vest. “Name?” He demanded as soon as his window was down. 

“Will Graham. I brought Dr. Alana Bloom.” 

The man nodded and radioed to someone inside- probably Jack- and then directed Will where to park. He swung around to the back of the house and parked next to the other vehicles. 

A black Bentley was already waiting for them. 

He was  _ not  _ looking forward to seeing Jack again so soon. He scrubbed a hand over his face after he killed the engine. 

“Will?” Alana asked, voice a little shaky. 

“I’m fine, just a little-“

The woman leaned over the console and pulled him into a kiss. 

It wasn’t a bad kiss, not really, he just didn’t feel… anything. 

When she pulled away she looked up at him, and he couldn’t tell if she was blushing or if it was just her makeup. 

“Alana, I…” He could see it in her eyes, the hope for something  _ more _ now that Will was stable, but also her fear of Gideon making her act on her desires. She didn’t  _ see _ him. He had to look away. 

She grimaced, “Oh, you’re not…”

“I’m sorta…” He vaguely gestured with his hands, then rubbed his face again. “We’re like… I’m seeing someone.” 

Her eyes widened and he could definitely see embarrassment on her face. “Wait, your admirer?” 

“Yeah.”

“You said he was an asshole!”

“He is.” He shrugged his shoulders lamely. He kinda liked that about him- not that he’d let Hannibal know. “Alana, I’m sorry, but I see you more as a friend…”

She was quiet for a beat before leaving the car, putting space between them. 

He wondered if Hannibal would be amused or annoyed that she tried to kiss him. Probably for the best he doesn’t know… he glanced up at Alana’s retreating form, guarded by an agent. 

He might be able to guess. 

Will sighed and got out too, heading for the building’s back entrance. The safehouse was a large house in the middle of the woods, sitting in a clearing, a gravel road the only way up to it. 

“Alana, Will, thank god you made it.” Jack’s voice boomed with genuine relief. 

Hannibal smiled at them, standing besides Jack at a table filled with evidence. “We were worried when we couldn’t get ahold of you, Alana.” 

She grimaced. “Hannibal, your face…”

The older psychiatrist let out a heavy sigh. “It wasn’t Gideon. I’m fine.”

Well, that at least brightened Will’s mood a little- Hannibal looking rather  _ done  _ with people asking questions about his bruises. 

Alana cleared her throat. “My phone died earlier today… you know, today of all days.” She shook her head. 

Will hummed, coming to stand in front of the table, glancing down at the pictures before he immediately stepped back, trying not to let the crime scene photos in. 

He didn’t want Gideon’s crazy in his head.

As he stepped back the front of the safehouse opened and an agent walked in, setting his gun on the table. The man was fully decked out in tactical gear. “Chilton’s team radioed in, they’re five minutes out.”

Jack nodded his head. “Good. Have them pull around back as well.” The man then turned to his former special agent and he immediately was on edge. 

“Will…” Jack said cautiously, “We need you.”

“No, you don’t. I only came to bring Alana here. I’m not profiling for you.” He glared at the back door, contemplating leaving. 

“Will. Alana might get hurt. Frederick Chilton is currently on his way here as well. These are people you know. Are you going to let them get hurt?” 

Will’s jaw clenched, pissed that Jack was playing dirty. He turned to glare at the agent, wishing not for the first time he could kill him. 

“...  _ Fine.” _ He growled. 

“What? Will, no, you don’t have to!” Alana immediately jumped to his defense, which was as admirable as it was annoying given the situation. 

Hannibal walked up to him then, claiming his attention. Will glared at him too, frankly tired of everyone in the room. 

“Will, you once told me you lose yourself when you use your empathy, correct?” He tilted his head. 

“What of it?” He snapped. 

Hannibal removed his expensive and heavy wristwatch and moved closer, taking his hand to adjust the strap onto his slightly smaller wrist. “Your name is Will Graham, the closest town to us is Bowie, Maryland, and the time is now 9:56PM.” He gave Will’s wrist a squeeze. “It’s a grounding technique, should you find yourself lost. You are not alone.” Hannibal took a step back, examining his face. 

Will stared at the watch, hearing the silence in the room, could feel the tension like everyone was expecting him to snap. 

Again. 

He lifted his other hand and gently cupped the heavy piece of metal- that probably cost more than his car- and blinked, glancing up to meet Hannibal’s eyes. The man wasn’t happy Will was forcing himself to do something he didn’t want to do, but he’d also accepted that Will had made his own choice. 

He had to look away again, feeling his heart squeeze painfully. “... Thanks.” He mumbled. For the watch. For the trust. 

He cleared his throat. “Hey, Hannibal?”

“Yes Will?”

“You ever fired a gun?”

“I have gone hunting on occasion.” Hannibal tilted his head, curious. 

“Promise to shoot me if I start hearing voices.”

An amused smirk slipped onto the man’s lips. “Considering auditory hallucinations are easily managed with medication and psychotherapy… No.”

“What are you, my therapist?” Will smacked his arm affectionately. 

“I think you’d find my rates reasonable.” 

“Why do I doubt that?” He moved around the man then, walking over to the table filled with Gideon’s trail of carnage. 

The room was still, waiting to see what he’d do. 

He took a deep breath and  _ looked _ , letting the pendulum swing. 

“What’s happening?! Where is he?!” Frederick Chilton ran into the room, followed by armed agents, completely disrupting Will. The former profiler shut his eyes

“Hey Chilton.”

“Does anyone know what that maniac-“

“Chilton, he’s going to kill you last. Now shut up.” That did it. A terrified squeak left the man and Will went back to work, deep breath in, slow exhale. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was fascinating watching Will work. His darling, lost in a trance, seeing through a mind that wasn’t worthy of his consideration. Hannibal was at least happy he could admire him while he used his empathy, even if his talents were being wasted on the group gathered around them. 

He glanced at Alana, curious if she had confessed her feelings to Will already. She’d seemed upset when she entered the safe house but now there was only fear. 

How lucky she was that the empath held her in high regard. 

Maroon eyes returned to Will, noting the sheen of sweat that had begun to form over his forehead. 

The silence seemed to drag on for an eternity, until finally the younger man gasped and quickly backed away from the table, stumbling back until he hit the wall, his eyes darting around wildly, his hands clutched to his chest- guarding the watch. 

No one else dared to approach him. Hannibal glanced at his watch on Will’s wrist and moved closer. 

“Your name is Will Graham. You’re outside of Bowie, Maryland, and the time is 10:24PM. You’re alright Will.” He said gently, making no move to touch him in his panicked state. 

Blue eyes locked with his, confused and lost before they closed and he worked on controlling his breathing. 

“Fuck…”

“Will?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” 

“What did you see?”

Will turned to glare at Chilton, looking murderous. The other psychiatrist made the wise move of standing behind Jack Crawford. “Chilton, this is  _ your  _ fault.” He snapped, “What the  _ hell _ did you do to his  _ head _ ?”

“I didn’t  _ do  _ anything!” 

“Will?” Hannibal gently redirected his attention. 

“He doesn’t know who he is anymore. Everything is jumbled up. Fuck. That was awful.” He whispered, a look in his eye that told Hannibal he wasn’t done experiencing it yet. He shook his head, still clutching the watch to his chest. His knuckles were white. Will glanced at the time. “10:32…” He muttered. 

Hannibal closed the space between them and gently touched his arm and was rewarded with Will’s shoulders relaxing slightly. 

“Where is he?” Jack demanded. 

His darling grimaced. “He was waiting in Alana’s car. He was going to take her somewhere to kill her. He had to change plans when we left in mine…The cars.” The younger man visibly paled, his eyes widening. That frantic look returned as he started muttering, “Shit,  _ SHIT _ !”

“Will!” Hannibal demanded as he pulled away, frantically pushing the Ripper aside as he made a dash for the table, grabbing the gun the other agent had set down. The man quickly backed away from Will like he knew what he was capable of.  _ None _ of the agents were brave enough to grab him, to try and stop him. Not for the first time, Hannibal wondered what had happened during Will’s breakdown. 

Will made it to the back entrance, pushing the doors open as he shouted into the night. “Gideon!”

Jack cursed and started ordering armed agents after Will, but he was already gone into the night, rushing forward like a knight defending his kingdom, Jack’s men needing time to grab their weapons and protection. 

“He must already be here. Damn it. You two,” he pointed at Alana and Chilton, “Stay here!” He barked as he loaded his own gun and led the charge, the agents spilling out of the building behind him, following his former bloodhound. 

Hannibal followed Jack out, finding himself enamored by his killer, even if later they were going to have to have a long conversation about communication and  _ not  _ rushing head first into fights. Perhaps he could forgive him this time, since it was Jack and Chilton who put Gideon into his head. He wondered what bloody mess he’d reduced Gideon to. 

Will had already made it to the tree line, several yards ahead of the FBI, gun raised in his hand. “I know who you are, Gideon! I know what he did!” His voice just barely carried over the clearing to the advancing group. 

They were too far from him, his Will standing before the trees alone, a gladiator ready to slaughter. 

He couldn’t hear the response from Gideon, if there was one. 

He did, however, hear Will’s frantic shout of, “Jack! Stop! He’s got gasoline!” Right before his beloved fired three rounds, putting himself at risk in order to spare the lives of all the agents rushing forward into the unseen danger. 

Hannibal wanted to strangle him in that moment, as he caught on too late to what Will’s plan  _ was _ . He’d rather see the hoard of agents burnt to a crisp then allow someone else to put a single scratch on his Will. 

A fourth gunshot sounded, coming from the tree line, and Will collapsed to the ground before Hannibal’s eyes, his cry cut short. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (:3｣∠)_


	14. Funeral Symphony (I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR 🎊🎆🎈 🥳
> 
> Disclaimer! I am not a medical professional but did my best to be medically accurate~

Hannibal was the first to make it to Will, dropping to his knees besides his fallen companion, immediately becoming drenched in his blood. He felt an unknown feeling of dread bubble in his chest as he looked into Will’s eyes, wild with panic and adrenaline.

“Hann…bal…” He gasped, short of breath and in immense pain. 

The name immediately snapped the Ripper out of his daze, his emotions being shelved away for the moment as his usual clinical calm took hold. He felt like he was back in the OR, and focused on the patient in front of him. He assessed the bullet wound first, checking to see if anything vital had been struck. With Will’s labored breaths he determined his right lung had been pierced, but upon feeling his side he was unhappy to find that the bullet had shattered a rib, displacing it in his thoracic cavity. He was unable to determine if the rib or the bullet pierced the lung. 

Beverly Katz arrived behind him then, as he quickly pulled off his jacket and removed one of his heavy ballpoint pens from the inside pocket, setting it aside, before using the jacket to stanch the flow of blood leaking from the open wound. 

“Get an ambulance here, NOW!” He heard jack shout as he passed them, vaguely aware of the other agents running around them, heading in the direction of Abel Gideon. This close to the tree line Hannibal could smell the gasoline Will had warned them about. 

He could hear the sound of someone else calling an ambulance behind him. He wished he had the time to help hunt Gideon like the pig he was, but his darling seemed rather upset. 

“Will, please look at me.” He said, putting firm pressure on the wound as he loomed over his beautiful killer, locking eyes with the man as he panicked to breathe. “Your lung has collapsed due to the trauma of your injury but your other lung is fine. Breathe in with me, please. In. Out. In...” He was unwavering in his calm, voice steady as a mountain, and he could see it helping Will, even though every intake of breath must have been agonizing he managed to calm himself. 

Those beautiful brows then drew together in pain, “T-tight…” Was the only warning Hannibal received before Will stopped breathing. 

Blue eyes widened and Hannibal witnessed a rather fascinating number of emotions flick across Will’s face as he tried and failed to breathe. 

“Hannibal, he’s not breathing. Why isn’t he breathing?” Katz asked, voice a little pressured, the agent staying relatively calm, considering the situation. 

“Agent Katz, please put your hands where mine are. Firm pressure, you need to stop the blood flow, understand?” He quickly grabbed her hands and forced them over the wound, putting her to use. “I was afraid this would happen.” Hannibal sighed as he grabbed his pen and began taking it apart, finding himself not enjoying the sound of Will asphyxiating beside him. 

Will wasn’t allowed to be killed by anyone else but him. 

“Hannibal what the hell are you doing?!“ Katz snapped, becoming angry in her panic. 

With the pen empty of its ink cartridge and the bottom portion, he reattached the tip to the body, an open tube with a pointed end, making a makeshift chest tube. 

Hannibal moved to kneel at Will’s head and ripped his shirt open. “Please forgive me, this will hurt.” He said, tracing his fingers along Will’s clavicle.

“Hannibal!” The agent shouted just as he drove the empty pen into Will’s chest, pushing it deep into him until it pierced his lung. A rush of air gushed through the tube and Will, who’s lips had begun to turn blue, gasped, his uninjured lung managing to refill partially. 

“There you are. In. Out. In. Out.” Hannibal gently placed his bloody hands on Will’s cheeks, looking deep into his eyes. “Keep breathing, you’ll be alright.” He said softly, offering a small smile. “Your collapsed lung filled with air and expanded, putting pressure on the other lung, causing it to collapse as well.” He explained gently, giving the other man something to focus on besides the pain, though he doubted Will was listening to the words. “I had to release the trapped air. In. Out. In. Out.” 

Hannibal glanced at Katz as he continued to chant to Will, affirming she had kept her hands on the wound. The woman still looked shocked but she had at least calmed at seeing the wounded man’s condition stabilize. 

The former trauma surgeon sighed and looked back down at Will, who had closed his eyes. “Will, please look at me if you’re conscious.”

Blue eyes fluttered open tiredly. 

“You don’t need to speak, but please keep looking at me. You’re at risk for going into shock. Blink if you understand.”

He blinked, still trying to keep his breathing calm. 

“Thank you. The ambulance should be here soon,” he hoped, “would you like me to call Abigail when we arrive at the hospital? One for yes two for no.”

One blink. 

“Alright. Will?” 

Blink. 

“You did a wonderful job, mylimasis, but next time please wait for us.”

Will frowned slightly at the Lithuanian word but then Jack jogged over to them, coming from the direction Gideon had fled, eyes locking on the pen sticking out of Will’s chest. “How is he?”

“He’s stable but will need medical treatment for his broken rib and collapsed lung.”

The man nodded, rubbing his face. He at least looked a touch relieved to hear he hadn’t caused Will’s death. It wasn’t enough to appease Hannibal’s wrath but it was something. “Gideon ran farther into the woods but it looks like he killed three of my men before Will got to him. He’s armed.” Jack’s expression hardened. “We’ll find the bastard.”

“What about the gasoline?” Katz frowned, staying down with Will. 

“C-c...ars… H-h...” Will forced out, but Hannibal covered his mouth with his hand, smearing blood over his face. It would have been beautiful if the Ripper wasn’t also considering snapping his neck- not to kill his dearest, but if the sweet boy was paralyzed he wouldn’t be able to run into anymore bullets. 

The thought was more tempting than it should have been. 

“Hush. You can explain yourself later.” He chastised. His darling narrowed his eyes at him, but he had little leverage in the given situation, wounded and in great pain as he was. 

Hannibal looked up as he heard the approaching siren of the ambulance. “Finally.” He hummed, turning to look back down. “Shall I ride with you?”

Blink. 

“Alright. I’ll let the paramedics know the situation. Please hang on a little longer.” 

Katz eyed him suspiciously but didn’t question him. 

Hannibal finally stood as the ambulance rushed over to them and came to a quick stop, the EMS personnel jumping out and running over to the fallen former agent. 

The older man explained the situation as they took over putting pressure on his wound and got him on a gurney and loaded him into the ambulance. They quickly set him up with an IV, a nonrebreather mask, and removed the rest of his shirt, properly packing the wound. 

While they worked Hannibal turned to Jack, who looked especially  _ aged _ in that moment. “Please keep us updated.”

The Ripper nodded before he boarded the ambulance. “Let me know when you find him, Jack.” The heavy door closed with finality and they were finally off. 

Will looked like he was barely hanging on. 

Hannibal moved up and removed the younger man’s phone from his pocket. “Will? I’m going to text your daughter. May I use your phone?”

Blink. 

Hannibal picked up his hand and used his thumb to unlock the screen. He went to the settings and disabled the lock feature, using Will’s thumb again to bypass the security. Once he was sure he wouldn’t be locked out he found Abigail’s contact information and memorized it. He would contact her after Will was out of his hands. 

“Damn this guy is lucky you’re a doctor.” One of the paramedics shook his head, sitting back now that the immediate danger was out of the way. 

“I am quite relieved I was present as well.” Hannibal looked up and saw Will was finally unconscious. 

“What hospital are we on route to?”

The man answered and he used his own phone to search its credentials. He wasn’t pleased with the small town’s nearest emergency room, but it at least wasn’t far and Will wasn’t at risk of immediate death. Unless his loose rib had punctured something else. 

He looked to Will, noticing just how frail he seemed, pale and masked. His watch stood bold against his wrist, just a tad too big for him. Will had seemed so pleased when he’d given it to him just a shot while ago...

Hannibal hoped Gideon escaped the FBI. He wanted to make him pay for putting his darling through this. Will was powerful and would pull through, he knew, and he wouldn’t worry now that the worst had already happened and been taken care of- but Gideon had touched one of Hannibal’s possessions, his favorite person, and that folly could not go unpunished.

~~~~~~~~

Hannibal made sure to speak with Will’s surgeon before he operated on his darling, half tempted to get scrubbed up himself to perform the surgery. 

He couldn’t begin to describe how unhappy he was that someone else was going to have their hands inside of Will’s organs but he knew it would be highly suspicious if he acted on his desires and the surgeon  _ did  _ seem competent enough. 

Will just needed a proper chest tube and his rib reattached- as long as there were no other surprises. 

He busied himself with calling Abigail, standing in the waiting room, covered in his beloved’s blood.

_ “Hey Will, is something wrong?”  _ The girl took a few rings to answer and when she did Hannibal could hear the faint sounds of music playing in the background- it was well past midnight on a Friday night afterall. 

“Hello Abigail, it’s Hannibal, I’m sorry to bother you this late.” He took a seat in an uncomfortable, barely padded chair. 

_ “... Where’s Will?”  _ She sounded worried. 

“We were both called out to an emergency and I’m afraid Will was injured in the fray. He’s currently in a Maryland hospital but he’s stable and-“ 

_ “What happened!”  _ She demanded, fear making her rude. 

“He was shot, but as I said he is stable-“

_ “Where is he? Hannibal I want the address now.”  _ Like father like daughter. 

He gave her the address. “But Abigail, please, it’s an hour drive from Virginia, Will wouldn’t want you on the road this late. I’ll happily give you up-“

_ “I’m on my way now. Call me if anything changes!”  _ And then she hung up. 

He smiled softly at the phone, knowing Will would be so proud of her fierce spirit. Hannibal just hoped she was driving with a clear head. If she became emotional and wrecked… then Will would be devastated. 

The Ripper passed the next forty-five minutes scrolling through Will’s phone, reading his and Abigail’s messages, looking through his pictures…

There were three dogs, he discovered. Through the messages he gleaned that one was named Buster and had a habit of eating things he shouldn’t. 

He had to put the phone away when Alana and Agent Katz arrived, the elevator warning him of their arrival, asking for updates. 

“Still in surgery, I’m afraid.” Hannibal sighed, checking his own phone. The doctor had thirty minutes to finish, any longer than that and he would be barging into the OR himself. 

The two women sat down with him, looking exhausted. 

“Any news from the safehouse?” 

Katz shook her head. “They still hadn’t found him when we left. Jack thinks Will got some shots in, but they were working on getting dogs out there to track him.” She looked frustrated.

“I can’t believe Will rushed out like that.” The woman slouched back in her seat. 

“It was reckless of him.” The psychiatrist agreed. 

“Hannibal…” Alana started hesitantly, trying to choose her words carefully. 

He raised a patient eyebrow in acknowledgment.

“You and Will seem… close.” 

“We’ve become friendly, yes.” He hummed, keeping a smile off his face. 

“He said he didn’t like you, after you hung up the phone earlier.”

“I do enjoy pushing his buttons.” He shrugged easily. “He’s said the same phrase to my face.” 

She opened her mouth and he wondered if she’d call him on his vague answers but the sound of the elevator dinging again caught his attention. He glanced at the time as Abigail entered the waiting room, turning to see him. 

Hannibal frowned and stood up. “Abigail I hope you weren’t sp-“ He had an arm full of young adult before he could finish his reprimand. Humming, he gave in and hugged her back, resting a comforting hand on her head. He knew he wasn’t as good at being warm as Will was but he hoped he brought his darling’s child some relief. “He’s currently in surgery, Abigail. He’ll be okay.” 

The young woman let out a pained breath and Hannibal realized then that she was barely holding it together. He could feel the dampness through his shirt before he heard the beginnings of Abigail hyperventilating. 

The psychiatrist saw the nurses looking up out of the corner of his eye as he turned and sat her down in his chair. “Abigail, breathe. He’s okay.” He knelt down in front of her, forcing her eyes on him, performing his second breathing assistance for the night. “Breathe with me.” He coached gently, rubbing her back as she bent forward, hugging herself. 

“I can’t lose him Hannibal…”

“I know, he’s not dying, I checked his wounds myself.” He continued to rub her back as her breathing stabilized. 

She closed her eyes and rested her head on her knees, still hugging herself. 

“Do you have panic attacks often, Abigail?” He asked curiously, staying on her level. 

“Not usually… it’s just been… a lot. Lately.” She sniffed, lifting her head to look at him, calming down. “He’s okay?”

“Yes. In two months he’ll be fully recovered, I’d bet my license.” 

“What happened?” Her voice was quiet. 

“Will ran into the fray to protect everyone and sustained a gunshot wound to his right side.” He decided not to emphasize the rashness of Will’s actions in front of the man’s daughter. 

She nodded, finally sitting up. “That sounds like something he’d do.”

“Graham?” A nurse walked into the waiting room, interrupting Hannibal. He and Abigail were up first, moving to the woman. “They just finished up and he’s being moved into a room to give him time to recover. He’s going to be just fine.” She smiled at Abigail, who looked like the world had been removed from her shoulders. 

“May I speak with the surgeon, please?” Hannibal was polite but it didn’t sound like a request. “I’d like to know what he did and the extent of the damage to the patient.”

The woman looked like she’d been warned that a doctor was in the waiting room, judging by the annoyed flicker in her eyes. “I’ll let him know.” Her tone dry. 

“Can I see him?” The young women spoke up next to him 

“I’m afraid he’s currently unconscious, I would recommend checking back in the morning, during our visiting hours.” She nodded to them and returned to work, Hannibal glancing at her badge. It wasn’t a large town, she couldn’t live  _ too  _ far from the hospital...

Abigail deflated against him and he allowed her weight. “Abigail, would you like me to drive you home? It’s rather late and Will wouldn’t want you driving while you’re upset. We can return together in the morning and you can pick up your car then.” 

She was quiet for a moment before she shrugged her shoulders. “Okay… Thanks Hannibal.” She patted his arm before moving to sit back down. He heard her speak to the other women quietly, updating them, as he stood waiting for the surgeon. 

The man did not make him wait long, thankfully, and Hannibal was able to subtly grill him on Will’s surgery. 

He was relieved to learn that the bullet only hit the rib and that he’d been correct in assuming that only Will’s lung had been punctured. 

Will was lucky Gideon was a bad shot. 

After thanking the surgeon for his time and good work, Hannibal returned to his party, seeing everyone was much more relieved. 

“I’ll let Jack know.” Katz assured him as she pulled out her phone. 

Alana shook her head and stood up. “I think it’s about time we all head home.” 

“Alana I hope you’re not planning on returning alone…” The Ripper spoke up in pretend concern. 

She offered him a tired smile and shook her head. “No, Beverly drove me. Don’t worry, I got the team watching my back. Thanks though.”

Turning to Abigail, he tilted his head. “Shall we?”

The young woman nodded, appearing so much younger in this moment than he’d ever seen her. He led her down the elevator and out to his Bentley. “I’m more than happy to drive you home Abigail, but I thought I would offer you my guest bedroom for the night, if you’d want it. My home is closer than yours, but if you’d be more comfortable in your own bed it’s no trouble.”

A pause. “Your place is fine… it’s probably easier for you anyway. Thanks, again.”

“It’s not a problem. I’ll make breakfast in the morning and you’re free to snack when we arrive, if you’re hungry.”

“I’m not.” She said quietly, and he understood. 

Halfway to Baltimore she spoke up again. “Will told me you’re the Chesapeake Ripper.”

Hannibal paused. The silence stretched for a long while, tense. He was rather unhappy to hear Will had given away his darkest secret without his permission but he also couldn’t say he was surprised to hear he had warned his adopted daughter of the danger. 

Eventually he just accepted it, though Will was definitely going to hear about it later. “Then I imagine he also told you I’m not a threat to you.”

“Yeah…”

The air was tense again. 

“Will killed my dad.” Hannibal broke a little too hard at a red light. 

“ _ He  _ did?” He turned to her, intrigued. 

Abigail was bathed in the red glow, looking down at her hands. “Yeah.”

“To be honest, Abigail, I had assumed you had been the one who killed him.” With encouragement from his darling. 

She huffed a dry laugh. “I mean, the argument could be made that I doomed him to die when I didn’t stop Will.” 

The glow turned green and Hannibal drove on. 

“My dad was great growing up. He was like my best friend… but that changed when I started junior year.” Her voice was soft, lost in her memories, and the Ripper hoarded every detail. “He started getting… weird whenever I brought up college and by senior year weird turned into scary. He took me to my first campus tour and he…” She took in a shaky breath. “He asked me to bring a girl back to the hotel and he killed her. She looked a lot like me.” 

“You kept yourself alive, Abigail. There’s no shame in survival. We all must do what we have to.” He said gently, wanting to encourage that darkness. 

A disbelieving huff followed and she continued on as if he hadn’t spoken, needing this off her chest. “Two more tours, two more dead girls. The second college was in our hometown, he just took her back to his hunting cabin… that’s when Will showed up.” Her knees came up and she hugged them to her chest. Hannibal didn’t even complain about her shoes on the leather. 

“My dad grabbed me, put his knife to my throat. That’s how I got the scar… Will shot him dead. I thought he was going to kill me too but… he just looked at me and, I don’t know, it’s like he understood. He told me to call the police and he told me what to tell them. He got rid of the girl’s body and we staged a failed murder-suicide. Will  _ saved  _ me.” 

Hannibal parked in his driveway. Knowing what his Will was capable of only made the Ripper more excited and the tale of murder absolved Will of his transgression in Hannibal’s eyes. 

“He let you keep your life as it was, without your father looming over you.”

She sniffed and nodded, wiping at her eyes. “Some weeks later I walked into a coffee shop and he was just sitting there, looking at art history textbooks,” a soft laugh “he bought me coffee and we just… talked. Maybe I should have reported him, but he just… Will looks at me like my dad used to, you know? Before he went crazy. He feels like home.”

“A new father to replace the old.” He hummed. “I’d hate to sound rude, Abigail, but I do believe you upgraded.” 

She smiled back at him. “Yeah… I guess that’s fair.” She held out a hand to the Ripper. “Welcome to the family.”

Hannibal froze, taking in her words. 

_ Family.  _

He carefully shook the offered hand. “Thank you, Abigail. That’s very kind of you.” He gave her a gentle squeeze, smile just as soft. “Come on then, it’s been a late night for us both, let me show you the guest room. I can pick you up a change of clothes in the morning, so don’t worry about anything.” 

“I’d hate to be a bother…”

“It’s no trouble at all.” He left the car and unlocked the front door, holding it open for her. The older gentleman led her through the house and up to her guest room. “The bathroom is connected and should be fully stocked. If you need anything, let me know.”

She offered him a small, tired smile. “Thanks Hannibal. Night.”

“Good night Abigail.” 

He returned to his own room and readied for bed. The man stayed up just a little longer, resuming his perusal through Will’s phone. He found a picture of his darling looking a few years younger, nose deep in a textbook and texted himself the photo. He didn’t bother to hide his snooping, Will was going to know the second he returned his phone. 

Finally satisfied, he plugged both phones in to charge and turned in for the night. 

The next few days were going to be busy and he couldn’t wait to put his plans into action. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a lot of Will this chapter for obvious reasons but we’ll be seeing him soon~ What Will experienced is a condition called tension pneumothorax! I watched a lot of YouTube videos to write that scene haha  
As always, I am blown away by y’all’s investment in this story and I can’t thank you enough ♥️ I hope 2020 is good to you!


	15. Sonata of the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day of errands and checking in on Will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels good to be back! I certainly hadn't expected to be gone for so long, but then I blinked and 7 months had passed since I last posted so... Life just be like that. But! We're back and I plan on finishing this story (and editing those earlier chapters).  
Thank you so much for your comments, your kudos, and your eyeballs! Your support inspired me to keep going!

Hannibal woke up just before daylight, his alarm gently buzzing on his night stand. He stepped out of bed, his breath hanging heavy in the cold night air as he slipped on his coat. He then moved to the linen closet to grab some spare blankets. 

He made his way silently downstairs- feeling at ease in the darkness- making his way towards the garage. It took him a moment to carefully arrange the blankets on the backseat in the Bentely, hoping to protect the leather . He then returned inside and found where Abigail had hung her purse on the coat rack.

It took a second to find her keys but when he did he double checked them, confirming there were two house keys on the ring. 

A note was left on the kitchen table, just in case she woke up, reading “_I went to fetch the dogs, call if you need anything”_, and grabbed a bag of sausage_. _Hannibal locked the front door behind him as he opened Will’s phone and used the GPS to make his way to the address labeled **HOME**, a thrum of excitement in his veins mixed with an equal amount of dread. 

On one hand he’d be seeing his beloved’s home, his personal sanctuary, and on the other… he wasn’t looking forward to the dog hair. When their futures eventually entwined he knew he would have to allow the dogs into his home, but for now he could delay the inevitable. If the beasts made Will happy then he could not deny their presence in his beloved’s life- and Will would undoubtedly choose having dogs over Hannibal. 

The hour long drive passed rather quickly, with Hannibal using the time to consider how best to provide for Will while he was injured. When he finally arrived at the house, standing alone and solid like a fortress, he smiled and walked up the steps, Abigail’s keys in hand. The second key unlocked the door and the three dogs immediately rushed out, with little Buster sniffing and barking at him the loudest as they searched for their master. 

Gaining their trust was simple once the sausage was offered. When the three consumed their fill he guided them back inside, pleased with how easily they followed instruction. He made a mental note to praise Will later as he began poking around the home, mildly surprised to see the bed in the living room.

Hannibal couldn’t help but pick up a fishing lure and admire it, stroking the colorful feathers. 

How talented his darling was. 

Satisfied with the light snooping, he made his way over to the pantry and gathered the dogs’ food, making a note of the brand before he took the large bag out to his trunk. With everything packed up he let the dogs out once more, giving them a minute to do their business before he whistled and loaded them up into the back seat. He kept his sighs to a minimum, knowing that Will’s pleasure outweighed the burden of fur in his Bentley. 

The drive back was surprisingly uneventful, though Buster eventually hopped into the front passengers seat, looking up at Hannibal with a challenging glint in his eye as he settled himself away from the two larger dogs.

He couldn’t help his smile. “I see you’ve adopted your master’s independent streak.” He mused aloud, warmed at the reminder of his darling. Buster huffed in answer. 

When they returned home, Hannibal let the dog’s out into the backyard with water and 

sausage while he began his morning routine. 

~~~~~~~~

“When did you get the dogs?” Abigail blinked when she entered the kitchen an hour later, seeing the beasts playing outside- or at least Buster and the other dog where playing, Winston was lounging by the door, ever the refined older gentleman. 

Hannibal’s sleeves were rolled up as he whisked a bowl of eggs. “Good morning Abigail. I left around four.” He set down his bowl to pour her a glass of organic pomegranate juice as she sat down. 

“I didn’t know Will gave you a key.” 

“He didn’t. I used yours.” The man smiled, seeing no reason to be anything less than himself with the young woman. 

She shook her head, sipping from her glass. “You could have woken me up.”

“You needed your sleep and the dogs needed to be picked up.” He hummed, adding the eggs to a rectangular skillet, spreading them out thinly. 

“Will might be mad about that.” She hid her smile behind her glass. 

“It’s only fair, as he has arrived at my home unannounced before. If he’s upset by me returning the favor then he’s welcome to voice his complaints.” He glanced at the clock, making sure he was on time. “I have a few errands to run before we head back to Bowie, if that’s alright with you?”

The young woman absentmindedly rubbed over the scar on her neck. “That’s fine. Do you need any help?”

“No, but thank you for the offer.” He offered her a smile before he finished up his meal prep, making two plates and boxing the third. “Japanese style omelette on a bed of rice, with a bowl of homemade miso soup.” 

“Is there a cooking style you don’t know?” She teased, earning a smile. 

“My aunt is Japanese so I am rather fond of the culture and its cuisine. Please enjoy.”

The two ate in relative silence as the young woman was still waking up, looking rather tired. 

“I should be back in an hour, we can head to the hospital as soon as I’ve returned.” He nodded to her as he finished cleaning his dishes and set them to dry, packing up Will’s breakfast next. He then let the dogs back in. 

“Abigail, I’ve been meaning to ask, what is the black one’s name?”

“Max? He’s the newest addition to the pack.” She smiled, petting the dogs who were happy to see a familiar face, and he logged away the information, happy to have them all accounted for. 

“Feel free to make yourself at home, I’ll be taking them to a daycare that does overnight boarding.” He readjusted his sleeves and shrugged on a suit jacket. 

“They’re not staying here?” She blinked. 

“As much as I adore your employer, I’m afraid I’ll be avoiding dogs in the house for as long as I possibly can. They’ll have more stimulation and enrichment in a daycare than they would here while we are away. Don’t wait up.” He mused before guiding the pack out and back into his car. 

After signing all the paperwork and getting the three settled he headed to a flower shop and then finally returned home. 

Abigail was waiting for him and they headed out together, the young woman looking more put together. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_ Chilton’s smug expression floated behind his eyes, begging to be ripped apart. _

_ Dozens of voices chatted in his ears. _

_ Blood dripped from his fingertips. _

“- it was a straightforward procedure…”

_ Faces whizzed by, some screaming, others calm in death. _

_ Gideon. A faceless mass that resembled Gideon. _

“…sleeping off the anesthesia…”

_ A raven stag slowly walked into view, pushing past the flurry of noise. When it came to a stop, Will reached out to touch it’s silky feathers but the shift in weight caused him to fall. _

_ Down he went into an abyss as dark as the stag’s feathers, away from the cacophony of sounds pounding on his ears. _

_ It was finally quiet. _

_ He opened his eyes and found a living statue staring back, both apart and separate from the darkness, it’s skin a matte black, it’s eyes lifeless but intelligent, almost gentle- _

Will gasped as he woke up, body sluggish even as his mind reeled. He tried reaching out again, grasping for something-

Another hand slotted into his.

“Will? Lay back down, you’re going to pull a stitch.” Hannibal chastised as he came into focus- wearing the most ridiculous paisley suit Will had ever seen. He quickly glanced over the Ripper’s shoulder. 

The sound of a heart rate monitor matching his heart beeped along and the walls were a sanitized white. An obnoxiously loud flower arrangement was set on a table across the room. 

“Where… do you... get... these suits?” The blue eyed man croaked as he looked at Hannibal again, grimacing as breathing put pressure on his ribs. “Shit…”

Abigail snorted a laugh to his right before she took his other hand and gently urged him to lay back down. “Oh yeah, you’ll be fine.”

“Hey Abby…” Will finally laid back, offering a weak smile to the young woman, wearing her signature scarf. 

“Hey Will.” The girl’s eyes watered but her smile was filled with relief. “You gave us quite a scare.”

“Sorry about that.” The restorer gently squeezed her hand. 

“How are you feeling? Besides sore?” Hannibal asked, sounding clinical. 

“Uh... sore? Why is there... a plastic tube... coming out of my chest?” A hole had been cut in the front of his hospital gown to accommodate the foreign object that was _ in _ his chest. 

“It’s a chest tube, Will, it’s helping your lungs not collapse again. Do you remember what happened?” The Lithuanian hadn’t let go of his hand. 

Blue eyes closed briefly, reminded of the red hot sensation of being shot in the chest, the crazy glint of Gideon’s eyes in the tree line, the smell of gas-

“Did they. Get. Him?” He used short pauses to minimize the stress on his healing lung. 

“As far as I’m aware he escaped but it’s possible Jack is on his tail.” The other man rested his free hand on Will’s shoulder, while the other carefully continued to contain his left hand.

“I’m glad your memory wasn’t affected Will,” the hand on his shoulder gave a gentle squeeze. “Perhaps you can grace me with your thought process at the time you ran off?”

Hannibal still sounded detached and Will had to glance at those maroon eyes to confirm that he was in trouble. 

“Ah...” 

“Hannibal, maybe you can question him tomorrow?” Abigail piped up for him, bless her. 

Hannibal flashed her a warm smile. “As a former-“

“Trauma surgeon. We know.” Will huffed because his ribs were really beginning to bother him. He looked away from the Ripper for a second to find the morphine button and- 

Hannibal squeezed harder on his left shoulder, earning a pained grunt and glare from the former field agent. 

“Will. I do realize you’re recovering, but I’d like you to understand that your actions caused us a great deal of discomfort.” 

Concerned. Hannibal had been concerned for his well being. Will could see it in his eyes, beneath the polite smile and exasperation. 

The fight left the wounded man and he sighed as he tapped the morphine button. 

“Gideon was going to. Blow up the cars.”

“How?” Hannibal mused

The pressure on his shoulder relaxed as Hannibal began to massage the muscles. The bastard was aware he’d been abusing Will’s bad shoulder. Again. 

Abigail kindly squeezed his other hand. 

“It’s not. Hard. Put a piece of cloth. In the gas tank, set it on fire. You have a fuse. He was going to lead the fire to the house. We would have been sitting ducks.” 

Nodding his head, the psychiatrist gently took Will’s chin and forced him to make eye contact. 

His expression was grim and his eyes firm. “I understand you care for others, Will. It’s a quality I admire, however, I don’t care about their lives. I care about yours. I’d like to ask you to take better care of yourself in the future.” 

Warmth bloomed in his chest- probably because of the morphine- as Will opened his mouth to respond, just as the door opened and revealed Beverly and Alana. 

While Hannibal was still holding his chin. 

The bastard continued to hold it for a beat longer than was really necessary. 

“Will! You’re up!” Beverly smiled warmly as she walked in, Alana trailing awkwardly behind her. The agent was holding a more reasonably sized bouquet of flowers and a gaudy “Get Well Soon!” balloon.

Ms. Bloom held back a little but still looked happy to see him, which was comforting. Maybe they could move on from their failed date and just be friends. 

The next twenty minutes bled Will dry, the morphine and shortness of breath wearing him down. If he had been tired before, now he was exhausted. 

Agent Katz updated them on the status of Gideon and Will explained the killer’s plan again, needing multiple pauses to draw in air. 

He appreciated it when Beverley didn’t ask him where he thought Gideon would be now. 

He was even more relieved when Hannibal interrupted and suggested that Will needed his rest. 

Once the two women were out of the room Will took in a deep breath and shut his eyes for a second. “Thanks.”

“Anytime. Abigail, would you mind going down to my car and grabbing my travel bag? I seem to have forgotten it.”

The former agent opened his eyes just to roll them after Abigail politely agreed and hopped up, leaving the two killers alone. 

“You left your bag on purpose.”

Hannibal smiled and pulled out Will’s phone, placing it gently in the patient’s hand. “Of course I did.”

The younger man blinked and opened it, shooting the foreigner a tired glare when the home page opened without a lock screen. 

Hannibal only smiled in turn, leaning over to swipe through the apps until he came to the last page- and tapped a new app that definitely hadn’t been there before. 

“I’m deleting your fingerprint from my phone.” Will grumbled as it loaded. 

A livestream of a bunch of dogs playing together greeted him, his mouth already open to ask what was going on when Winston came into view, playing with Max. A little searching revealed Buster trying to steal another dog’s toy.

“I’m afraid I haven’t owned a dog since I was a child, therefore I thought it would be appropriate if someone more qualified watched your dogs.” The older man gently moved his hand to lightly squeeze Will’s wrist. 

“You… took my dogs. to a daycare?” Will asked, looking surprised

“With overnight boarding, yes. They can stay as long as you need them too.” 

“… That sounds expensive.”

“And your peace of mind is worth every penny.” Another gentle squeeze. 

It took a few moments before blue eyes met maroon, searching for something, anything to contradict the older man’s words… 

Will didn’t find what he was looking for. Instead, he was met with an unmasked Hannibal, his eyes telling Will exactly how the man felt. 

Tilting his wrist, Will dropped his phone onto the uncomfortable hospital bed and grabbed Hannibal by the suit jacket and pulled him in close enough to plant a soft kiss on the cannibal’s cheek. 

“Thank you. For everything.”

The Lithuanian froze, staring straight ahead for a moment before his smile grew. Warm maroon eyes appraised him like he was something precious. 

“You’re more than welcome, Will.”

~~~~~~~~

The next time Will awoke- as he must have fallen asleep soon after Abigail returned- he was alone and the clock on the wall informed him it was 4:32AM. He let out a sigh and went to lift a hand to scrub his face but it was heavier than it should have been.

A large watch sat on his wrist, keeping him warm and grounded. 

It was no one's business but his own if he held the watch to his chest as he drifted back down into a sea of blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chill chapter! I plan on having 16 up before August is over! Stay safe and be kind to yourself!


	16. Sonata of the Serpent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news everyone! I got a new job! Today marks the end of my second week and it’s been going well~ I took a bit of a pay cut but I’m much more relaxed now. As promised, here is chapter 16! Thank you for all your kind words and for sticking with me during these crazy times ♥️ Enjoy!

Will was reading when Hannibal appeared at his hospital room door. The empath caught the moment the cannibal’s eyes softened when they landed on him. “Good afternoon Will, how are you feeling today?”

Tentatively, he offered a genuine smile in turn, setting his book aside in favor of… decent company. “Hey Hannibal. I’m feeling better today, actually. Is that lunch?”

He nodded in affirmation, getting to work setting out their meal. “I’ve missed you.”

Will hesitated a little, running a hand through his curls. “… I missed you too.”

It still felt weird, being so _friendly_ with the man after years of self isolation, minus Abigail, but he was trying.

Hannibal offered him another smile in answer, letting his appreciation be known as he handed Will his bowl.

The older man started to explain what the dish was, and Will let it go in one ear and out the other as he picked it up and smelled the delicious mix of meat and veggies.

The Ripper watched Will eat his first bite, and Will didn’t call him out, didn’t even bother to ask who he was eating. He’d finally decided it was just something he’d have to deal with for the remainder of their time together.

However long that was.

They ate in silence for a bit, Will sorting through his thoughts and feelings.

“Killing gets people out of my head.” He said softly, his words just for the man’s ears. “It’s... grounding when I watch the life drain from their eyes because of my design, not theirs.”

Hannibal was watching him with rapt attention.

Will caught hunger and awe in the man’s eyes and had to glance away at the intensity… but continued on. “I suppose now it also helps me blow off steam.” He admitted.

“You’re glorious, Will.” The psychiatrist spoke just as soft, reaching out to touch his knee. “Thank you for sharing with me.”

The younger man nodded, finding he didn’t regret the honesty as another silence fell upon them. He glanced over at the man and found him looking thoughtful, like he was being careful of his word choices.

“Does the name Carruthers ring any bells for you, Will?” Hannibal asked simply enough.

The heart monitor beeped on as Will paused to consider the question, looking a tad suspicious. “No. Should it?”

“He was a psychiatrist, one that wrote a book about our recent escapee. Gideon paid him a visit last night.” Hannibal mused, setting his lunch down in favor of his tablet. After a few taps he showed Will the front page of Tattlecrime.com and the rather brutal image of Carruthers’ corpse.

Will paused his eating, taking in the photo for a second before he gave Hannibal an unimpressed look. “I’ve met a number of psychiatrists. Can’t say I blame Gideon.”

The corner of the older man’s mouth quirked up for a moment, seemingly without permission. “A fair point, but it’s only been two days since you’ve been hospitalized. He does seem to be escalating…” He trailed off suggestively.

Will shot him a glare as he lifted another spoonful of delicious to his lips. “Don’t be cute Hannibal. It doesn’t suit you.”

A chuckle. “I apologize Will, I wasn’t sure how to approach my request. I do realize I’m bringing up a sore subject.”

His annoyance soothed at the man’s honesty, Will dropped the glare and went back to eating. “I’d prefer you be direct with me.”

“Of course.” Hannibal agreed before he leaned in closer, his lips almost touching Will’s ear. “I’d like to get you a present,” he murmured softly, causing goosebumps to travel up Will’s arm unbidden, “I just need assistance with timing, would you be willing to help me?”

The resteror tensed up in surprise at his body’s reaction to the sudden proximity but he didn’t move away as he considered his response. After some deliberation- with Hannibal’s soft breathing in his ear, definitely sniffing him- Will finally sighed and held out his hand for the tablet.

With a smile, Hannibal leaned back and produced the damn _case file_ and handed it over.

“The worst.” Will reminded him as he opened the manila folder and flipped through the crime scene photos, reconstructing the scene in his mind- the full blood bags in the cooler, the corpse sitting behind his desk with his tongue dangling down from his neck.

Gideon’s mind pressed against his and Will let it in, following the erratic and lonesome thought processes as they came to him.

The Lithuanian politely kept quiet while he worked.

With a sigh, Will finally came up for air, pushing the madness away from him as he regained the space of his own mind. “He’s going after Chilton next. It won’t be long. He wants to end this.” Will shut the folder and handed it back, feeling more tired than he had a moment ago.

Hannibal kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Will. That’s all I need.” He finally leaned back, looking very satisfied.

“Uh huh.” Will grumbled, feeling uncomfortably warm, despite the muted buzzing in his head. He kept his eyes on his lunch.

Though the concept of physical affection was still new to Will, he couldn’t say he wanted the man to stop.

It was certainly an easier thing to focus on than the plight of a killer who’d lost his identity.

They finished their meal in comfortable silence, Will mapping out a list of possible scenarios for how Hannibal would end Gideon.

He had to admit he did like how the man kept things interesting.

~~~~~~

His darling was unsurprisingly correct in his prediction.

Dressed in comfortable hunting clothes and his gear close at hand, the Ripper watched Frederick Chilton’s house from a safe spot in the woods for a few nights. He kept well concealed from the twenty-four hour agent watch assigned to keep the blubbering man alive.

Four nights into the watch, he finally noticed movement in the darkness of the bushes. Lifting his set of binoculars, he caught sight of Gideon just as he disarmed the two agents at the back of the house, quickly murdering both of them.

The man made a break for the house, going to stand by a window, his back to Hannibal. The Ripper couldn’t quite tell what he was doing until he saw the man remove the mesh screen and go to work.

Gideon slid the window open in less than a minute, sliding into the home like a wraith.

Making a quick scan, the hidden man waited a few beats, listening for any intruding agents. When none arrived he carefully made his way down from his spot, carrying a small duffel bag over his shoulder. He kept low to the ground, using the woods to cover him as he dragged the agents back into the bushes.

Once that was accomplished he set his duffle bag down and unzipped it, producing a silencer which he attached to a fallen agent’s gun. He walked away from the house, keeping to the trees for a bit before he crossed the street.

He knew there were two more agents patrolling outside in an unmarked van. He approached the passenger window and tapped it. The agent closest to Hannibal blinked in surprise, recognition flashing in his eyes as he rolled down the window with a hesitant, “Dr. Lecter?”

Two headshots, muffled by a silencer. He tossed the gun back into the car, no longer needing it, his gloved hands leaving no trace.

With the FBI momentarily out of the way, the psychiatrist pulled open the cover of the gas tank, and withdrew a long piece of thick cotton fabric from his pocket. It took a moment to push the fabric down deep enough into the gas to act as a wick, but once it was in he pulled out a lighter and lit the end, glancing around to make sure no one was out.

The clock was ticking in his head as he crossed back to Chilton’s side of the road and his duffel bag. He quickly stepped into his plastic suit before he went to the still open window.

Hannibal moved carefully through the large and badly decorated house, to the stairs, following the sound of Chilton’s distressed noises to the master bedroom.

Gideon was in the middle of cutting out Chilton’s tongue when the Ripper arrived, his jaws forced open with a dental mouth prop.

Hannibal politely knocked on the bedroom door with a gloved hand before opening it. “Pardon the interruption, gentlemen.”

Gideon looked up from his work, frowning when he took in his plastic attire. Chilton’s pathetic cries were being muffled by blood, the former trauma surgeon noted absently, and they became slightly more frantic at the sound of a familiar voice.

It was only a matter of time before he drowned in his own blood.

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met. Who are you?” Gideon asked, looking more intrigued than concerned.

“Dr. Hannibal Lecter, a pleasure to finally meet you, Dr. Gideon.” He inclined his head, appreciating the formalities. “I thought it would be best to clear up any discrepancies you may have over your identity. You are not the Chesapeake Ripper.”

“And you are?” He raised his brows curiously.

The explosion briefly lit up the night around them just before the sound reached them, shaking the house.

“I am. I’m also your way out.”

Gideon blinked, tilting his head. “You blew up a car?”

“It’s a good enough distraction, I’m sure you agree.” Hannibal smirked.

The escapee snorted and glanced over his shoulder at his victim who was quickly losing consciousness. “I suppose.”

He returned his gaze back to the Ripper, wary but open. “And I assume you have an escape plan as well?”

“A car is waiting for us just over the hill.” Hannibal stepped out of the doorway and held his arm out. “Shall we?”

“You first.” Gideon offered a half smile, and the Ripper obliged, making his way out of the house, to the backyard. The other doctor followed him at a safe distance, but still walked through the trees and down a hill to a neighboring cul-de-sac, where Hannibal’s hunting car was innocently parked.

The sound of sirens wailed in the distance. “And where are we going, again?” The other man asked as they entered the vehicle.

Hannibal’s plastic suit was a little noisy as he reached for the syringe filled with sedatives that was taped to the side of the driver’s chair. “We’ll be heading to my home.”

The Ripper caught the flash of something feral in his victim’s eyes as he smoothly swung the syringe into Gideon’s thigh just as the other doctor drove a scalpel into his shoulder.

“You bastard!” The man hissed as he pulled out the blade and aimed for Hannibal’s carotid artery.

He grabbed his wrist and quickly broke it, sending the scalpel clattering into the backseat, the man’s cry abruptly cut short when the Ripper followed through with a punch to the trachea.

Gideon’s strength was quickly leaving him, even as he clumsily groped for the empty syringe embedded in his leg. “Can’t have two Rippers running around, huh?”

“My apologies, Dr. Gideon, but I’m afraid you shot the love of my life and I simply can’t allow that sin to go unpunished.” The Lithuanian smiled cruelly as the man blinked rapidly, trying to stay awake.

Hannibal grunted as he removed the syringe he had hidden in his sleeve then the top half of his plastic suit, the deep cut in his shoulder complaining the whole time. The blood was hardly noticeable on his black shirt.

He glanced over to see that his latest house guest had finally lost consciousness, looking like a normal napping man- if one ignored his blood soaked hands.

The car would have to be torched, but overall a successful grocery run.

Hannibal smiled to himself as he took the long way home, avoiding the many emergency vehicles barreling their way towards the scene, and anyone who would look too closely.

Once he was home and had his guest securely tucked away in his basement, the predator stitched up his wound and incinerated any evidence before finally turning in for the night.

He sat up in bed a little longer and sketched his darling napping, replacing the harsh hospital bed from his memory with Hannibal’s own sheets, Will looking warm and at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 17 is in the works~ As always, thank you for your eyes ♥️


	17. Finito

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand we made it! This is not only the first fic I’ve posted in years, it’s also the first I’ve finished! And it’s 50k+ words! I couldn’t have done it without your support, dear readers!
> 
> Thank you for reading, kudoing, and commenting!

“Welcome home, Will. I have dinner in the oven, please have a seat. It should be finished soon.” Hannibal preened as he held the front door open for the recently released patient, ever the gracious host.

Will cracked a smile as he crossed the threshold, anticipation thrumming in his veins. He was finally free of the hospital after a couple of weeks of white walls suffocating him. Healing was monotonous, everyday he was there the walls inched a little bit closer. The nurses were too loud, though he knew it wasn’t their fault they were overworked and underpaid. He simply wished they’d keep their emotions to themselves.

He hadn’t asked about the night Chilton died and Hannibal had offered no further details then what could be found online.

One torched van, five innocents dead and the number one suspect was gone without a trace. Jack would be taking a sabbatical, the Ripper had informed him with no small amount of pleasure, off to Italy with his terminally ill wife.

He wasn’t very surprised to see Abel Gideon at the dining table, but he hadn’t quite expected to see him still alive, and strapped to his chair and hooked up to an IV.

He flicked Hannibal an inquisitive glance as he walked towards the plate set for him, to the right of the head of the table. Even he had to pause, however, when he noticed that Gideon was missing an entire leg. “Well then. Pulling out all the stops tonight, huh?”

A predatory gleam flashed in Hannibal’s eyes before he disappeared into the kitchen.

Gideon squinted at him, apparently heavily medicated- what with the cleanly bandaged amputation site and all. “Hey… aren’t you working for the FBI?”

“I’m retired.” Was the calm reply as the restorer sipped from a glass of water.

“I do believe I shot you. Will Graham, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Dr. Gideon, you did shoot me. I don’t really blame you though.” Gideon frowned, genuinely confused when he asked “You don’t?”

Will snorted. “I think we can all agree this is Chilton’s fault.”

“If that’s the case… do you mind explaining that to him?” The captive jerked his bound hand in the direction of the kitchen.

He thought about it for a moment, considering his options. “Sorry, he seems pretty committed to making this point. It would be rude for me to interrupt his dinner plans, especially when I’m the guest of honor.”

Gideon huffed a chuckle, “Rude?” He repeated mostly to himself as he looked down at where his leg used to be.

Will had to chuckle with him, at the absurdity of the night. Of where his life had led him. “I gotta admit, doc, this is the first time someone has wined and dined me before.”

“Actually he’s dined me, I’m afraid.” Gideon reminded him.

“Sorry, poor choice of words.” The killer allowed, his eyes catching on Hannibal as he carted in a larger serving platter covered with a dome, his eyes alight with the most emotion Will had seen on the man’s face.

It was… well, cute didn’t seem like an appropriate word when applied to the monster he was witness to.

“Gentlemen, thank you for your patience.” The Cheasepeake Ripper moved the platter onto the table and lifted the dome off. “May I present Rôti de cuisse, clay-roasted thigh.”

He admired Hannibal’s hands as he picked up a chisel and broke open the clay shell.

“You know, Will thinks this isn’t my fault.” Gideon pointed out as the Lithuanian picked up his carving knife, interrupting the flow of dinner.

Their host paused, his eyes flicking curiously to his companion.

The blue eyed man raised an eyebrow. “Dr. Gideon, I can understand why you’d want to kill psychiatrists- believe me, I get it. You still killed your wife and her family.”

Delighted, Hannibal returned to carving them each equal shares, explaining to Will the ingredients and history of the showy dinner, while the other man listened, relaxed and smiling for once.

The hunger in the Ripper’s eyes made him feel things. Person suit completely shed, the predator was exposed- and Will loved every second of it.

Hannibal was captivating. “I have to eat as well?” Gideon spoke up, a little more solid, trying to keep the disgust out of his voice as he eyed the portions on his plate.

“Yes, you as well.” Hannibal hummed as he undid the chair’s right wrist strap, before he returned to his seat at the head of the table.

Gideon caught Will’s eyes as he flexed his free hand, trying one last time. “When I first got married everything seemed great, until she started to change. People change Will.” The man warned.

The former field agent sighed. “Gideon has a point, Hannibal. We should set solid expectations for each other.” The killer held his hand out for a shake. “If one of us loses interest in the other, we should have a fight to the death- a proper one.” Will’s smile was the warmest it had been in forever when he told Hannibal, “I’d like the opportunity to rip your beating heart out of your chest. I need to know if it’s as black as your soul.”

His warmth was returned as Hannibal clasped their hands together and they shook on it. “And I’d get the chance to devour you entirely. You’d make so many devine dishes, my dear.”

Will snorted out a laugh as he picked up his fork. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Gideon sighed in exasperation. “Clearly I’m interrupting something.”

Will didn’t miss the way the captive glanced at his cutlery.

The younger man made a point to pierce a piece of thigh meat and brought it up to his lips, blue eyes locked with maroon the entire time as his lips closed around the meat.

The cannibal was nothing short of enraptured as Will chewed and knowingly swallowed his dinner, groaning in his own pleasure. “Okay. This is probably the best thing I’ve ever eaten, you’ve outdone yourself.” Will returned his smile, letting Hannibal know that he saw him, was happy to see him… happy.

When he saw Gideon’s hand inch towards the knife in front of him, Will turned and drove his knife into the hand, pinning it to the table.

Gideon just blinked down as his blood began to pool.

Very strong pain killers then. The restorer snorted before he paused, casting a glance at his partner. “Uh… sorry about the table?” He probably should have thought that one out.

Hannibal’s pupils were blown, his body leaned forward slightly in anticipation. “By all means, darling, continue. He is my gift to you, after all.”

The younger man picked up his glass of wine and took his time in order to hide just how much the look and endearment affected him. “My kill huh?”

“You mentioned you enjoyed watching the life drain from their eyes.” The man almost purred.

Gideon groaned beside him. Blood dripped onto the ornate rug beneath them, but if his host minded he made no mention of it.

“I do. Thank you for remembering.” Will took another bite of the succulent thigh, for once overwhelmed with his own emotions. “After dinner, of course.”

“Of course.” Hannibal murmured as he sipped from his wine glass.

~~~~~~

Will watched the blood swirl in the sudsy water as he washed his hands in one of the large industrial sinks lining the walls of the basement.

Who knew dismembering a body could be a fun bonding experience?

The bandsaw whirred on behind him as Hannibal broke Able Gideon’s body down into storable chunks. The head was laying on a stainless steel table closeby, it’s face- carefully removed by Will’s own hands- stared up at the ceiling blankly.

“I think braised boar head is going to be on the menu this week.”

Will snorted as he turned around. “They should’a called you the Baltimore Butcher.”

Hannibal’s wry smile was telling enough, earning a chuckle from the former agent. “You’ve referred to yourself as a butcher before.”

“All sustainably sourced, I assure you.”

He couldn’t hold back a bark of laughter as he moved closer and helped his partner finish packing away the meat.

“We can get the dogs in the morning.... Unless you’d rather I drive you home?” He offered.

The open door was tempting- safe- but it wasn’t what he wanted. With a frim thud, Will shut the freezer closed. “In the morning sounds good. Got any scotch?”

His heart skipped a beat as heat crept into those maroon irises. “I’m sure I could secure a glass…”

He grabbed Hannibal’s finely starched button up and pulled him closer. “Better make it a bottle.”

“Mylimasis…” Hot breath fanned across his lips and he could smell wine on the man’s breath.

“Hannibal…”

Like striking a match, the kiss lit a fire under Will’s skin as arms encircled him, pulling him closer until nothing separated them, two halves becoming whole.

Upstairs, in Hannibal’s bed there was finally nothing to keep them apart- and all Will wanted was more. He had never in his life felt so raw, so exposed as those maroon eyes bore into him- compelling him to beg for what he wanted, needed.

It helped that Hannibal seemed just as consumed by the flame as he was. Together they burned brighter.

Hannibal collapsed beside him, catching his breath. “That was....”

“Good?” He certainly was still feeling the buzz.

“You are exquisite.” The ripper chuckled in exasperation, and damn, if he didn’t look amazing with his hair tousled about, bruises already forming around his clavicles. He licked his lips.

“Thanks… Not just for the sex, but for everything.”

Hannibal leaned forward and softly kissed him. “My pleasure.”

That night, nestled against the Chesapeake Ripper, Will had the best sleep of his life.

~~~~~~

After waking up to an empty bed, Will carefully ventured down the stairs, feeling... unreal. Perhaps it was another existential crisis coming on. It'd been a while since the last one.

Hannibal was cooking in the kitchen- predictably- but he was only wearing a red sweater and a pair of slacks. No suit. The armor was off then.

Well fuck, maybe it was real.

The chef looked up and smiled. “Good morning my darling, your coffee is ready.”

Blue eyes locked on to the steaming mug waiting for him on the counter. “... Good morning and thanks.” He finally managed, moving to stand closer to Hannibal so he could watch him cook.

With a soft chuckle, Hannibal flipped an amazingly thin crepe in the pan. “You’ll feel better once the caffeine kicks in.” He said, shooting him a knowing look.

The Chesapeake Ripper hadn’t stopped smiling. It was small but there.

Will sipped from his mug, and pretended like he didn’t notice.

“That shirt looks good on you.”

“You mean your shirt?” The restorer chimed back, into his cup of black gold.

A pause. Hannibal finished the crepe he’d been working on- Will didn’t bother to ask what it was going to be, he’d be told soon anyway- and turned his full, curious attention to his lover. “Yes. You’re wearing my shirt, after sleeping in my bed, standing in my kitchen.”

“About to eat the food you’ve made with your hands.” He couldn’t help but add, amused.

“Something on your mind?” Maroon eyes practically gleamed in the soft morning light as they slowly took in all of Will in, like he was memorizing this moment.

Hannibal’s full attention was still a heavy thing, a weight that promised to drag Will down to even darker depths.

“I don’t think you love me.”

Hannibal closed the space between them until they stood toe to toe, every move he made fluid and calculated. “Oh?”

“You’re too much of a narcissist to love. You’re obsessive.”

A warm palm cradled his cheek. “Your very existence changed the center of my world,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek, “to see you happy makes me happy. Is that not love?”

The mug was taken from him before Hannibal crowded Will against the counter.

Though the smile was still on his lips, Hannibal’s eyes were bright with emotion- the fever dream Will had fallen into weeks ago and still couldn’t seem to wake up from.

The monster was hungry.

“Will?” He prompted, his soft, minty breath fanning over his love’s face.

“You’re not denying it.”

“Why would I?” He murmured, right before the gentlest kiss Will had experienced in his life. “The word love could not begin to describe my feelings for you. It is unfortunately the best I can do with the English language.” He tilted his head. “Well, I could do better, but showing is so much better than telling.”

The former agent reached up and pulled the smug bastard into a bruising kiss, loving the way Hannibal groaned when Will roughly bit his bottom lip.

Only weeks before he’d been content with a steady paycheck and his new studio. He’d been so confident that he’d found his place in restoring and killing killers. It had been good enough then, but as tongues danced and bruised lips were nipped, he knew it would never be again. Not while Hannibal kissed him like this, like he was a man in the desert who’d finally stumbled upon an oasis.

Strong hands slipped under his thighs and picked him up with little effort, the kiss never ending as the taller man turned and set Will on the island countertop.

They were practically the same size- Will was by no means a small man...

And then Hannibal was pulling away, taking the heat with him.

“Hey.” He practically growled, grabbing the Lithuanian’s wrist.

“Your turn.” He said simply before his tongue swiped over his bloodied lip. The younger man sighed, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. “.... You’re going to make me say it?”

A chuckle. “I hope that was rhetorical.”

“... I’ve never known myself as well as I do when I’m with you.” He didn’t lower his gaze, couldn’t look at the man, but felt Hannibal’s warmth return as he moved closer. “We’re similar enough that we should’ve already killed each other.”

Soft open mouth kisses against his throat were his reward and Will had to swallow before he continued. “I... I love you too.” He whispered.

He could feel the smile against his skin. “I know.” That accented voice purred huskily as he kissed a trail down to pale collarbones.

Will winced at the overhead light when he felt Hannibal leave another harsh bite. “I know I’m not... the best at being affectionate...” He ventured carefully.

“I love you as you are, mylimasis.” Will’s breath caught in his throat as Hannibal kissed a trail down his chest, his stomach. “As long as you’re prepared to suffer my affection.”

And suffer he did, emphatically, as Hannibal knelt between his thighs and showed him what it meant to be worshipped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking through to the end <3 Life has been crazy but this story, and your lovey eyeballs, have really helped brighten things up for me, so thank you~
> 
> I have two fics in the work at the moment, both for Hannigram, so be on the look out!


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